Third Time Is A Charm
by kasey8473
Summary: Sequel to 'Tea For Two'. Four years after the rise of the Empire, ObiWan and Dormé meet again. Ch. 9: Happy endings. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Third Time's A Charm

**Author**: kasey8473

**Summary**: Sequel to 'Tea For Two'. Four years after the rise of the Empire, Obi-Wan and Dormé meet again.

**Chapter**: One

**Rating**: M for the sort of humor in later chapters

**Disclaimer**: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended.

**Notes**: Rather than have one story with a large chunk of time passing right at the third marker, I opted to write the last two thirds as a sequel.

* * *

Who would have guessed years earlier that Dormé would find herself enjoying the company of thieves? She smiled to herself as she packed the few belongings she'd brought with her and took a last count of her earnings. She'd socked away a tidy sum from her take of the profits. It was time to retire into anonymity and the desert planet they were heading for fit the bill nicely. She was grateful to Rabé for suggesting several planets as possible destinations. 

There was a rapping of knuckles on her door, the captain of the vessel she was on looking in. Val Kallin was a good man for a thief. He did what he could to survive and if that included pulling a few jobs that weren't entirely legal according to the empire...then so be it. His moral code was interesting, but he'd never made a move on her and she was grateful for that. Not that he wasn't attractive, but she hadn't needed the sort of complications romance brought about.

"We're coming up on Tatooine. Be there shortly. Sure you wanna do this? I could use a gal with your aim on my team. Another few jobs, a few more credits? Not a bad life, Dormé. You and me as a team." He leaned against the doorframe.

"I need some quiet, Val." She closed her bag.

His glance moved over her, warm and as friendly as it'd ever been. "I can be quiet. Get us a room somewhere private, a bottle of that brandy we lifted from that Senator a couple months ago and I'll be as quiet as you want me. Won't make a peep unless you want me to."

"I'll pass," she said with a smile. "Your kind of quiet usually involves knives and stolen goods."

"Hey," he said, spreading his arms wide. "Quiet is quiet, Dormé. There's all kinds of things that can happen in silence. Good and bad both. I'm talkin' the good kind this time, babe. You're positive I can't tempt you?"

"Positive."

He laughed. "All right. We'll drop you off. Now, we'll be heading back this way in a few months, so if you change your mind, look for me. I try to make Tatooine two or three times a year."

"I'll consider it."

Two hours later, Dormé watched Val and crew lift off, then shouldered her lone bag and walked down the sandy, dry streets of the spaceport. She took a room and began a slow tour of the area. It was smart to know the lay of the land and if she was going to stay here, she was going to know where to avoid.

* * *

Sand, sun, whipping winds and the cry of beasts in the day and night. All the joys of Tatooine. 

Whoo-hoo.

Obi-Wan Kenobi lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. He was only half dressed though it was late in the day and sweat drenched every bit of cloth he touched. A pile of datapads were scattered on the bed with him and he was wondering if there was a possibility he could actually die from boredom. The thought had been on his mind quite a bit lately. He knew exactly how many cracks were in the ceilings of each room of his house and he could tell what time it was by where the shadows were on the floor.

He turned his head. The shadow was nearing the table beside him. Time for the news reports. Or rather it would be if anything in this house still worked. He hadn't the energy or inclination to fix anything. Why should he? The war between rebel and empire was still going on and he was out here in the middle of the desert going completely crazy for wont of anything to do.

"I am going completely insane," he said, reaching for his glass and discovering it was empty. When had that happened? Obi-Wan sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Not only was the glass empty, but the bottle of alcohol he'd been consuming was empty as well. Obi-Wan held it upside down over the glass and shook it. Nothing came out, not a single drop. "Well, bantha spit."

With a sigh, he got up and went outside to sit on the steps. Inside, outside... It was hot and miserable no matter where he went.

What he really wanted to do was go in to the spaceport. Not the nearest small piddling town, but the large spaceport that could provide some sort of amusement. Two minutes of conversation would do wonders to bolster him along until his next trip for supplies. He could pick up some supplies, although he really didn't need anything right now. Well...except more alcohol. Maybe he'd stay there a few days, catch up on the news and even pick up the parts to fix everything that was broken. That would occupy him for awhile.

Or he could stay here and see if it really was possible to die from boredom.

It took too much energy to make up his mind right then, so he returned to his bedroom to watch the shadows creep across the floor.

Three days later, he gave in to the temptation and roused himself enough to make the trip.

* * *

"Hello there." 

Dormé glanced up from her drink. She made no reply, knowing better than to do so. Wait until they speak, Val had told her. You'll get yourself in trouble if you smile or answer too quickly. Of course, he'd also warned her to wear her cloak at all times and never give a glimpse of her figure. She'd ignored that bit of advice today, having slipped off her cloak when she'd sat down. Too late, she realized her mistake. She was garnering more attention than she liked.

Not that she was wearing anything particularly revealing. Her shirt was high necked and long sleeved and her pants were slim fitting. Nothing that looked out of place. However, all the men seemed to be looking at her as though she was wearing a skimpy negligeé and prancing about shimmying and shaking.

The man before her was short and squat, with features that reminded her of a shaak. He smiled, revealing a mouth filled with many tiny sharp teeth. "You're a pretty little thing. I hear you're looking for a job." His beady eyes flashed with amusement, gaze in constant motion upon her.

Did he? Pretty amazing feat since she'd not made any inquiries regarding employment. Dormé raised her brows and sipped her drink, resisting the urge to shudder. After a moment of silence, she asked," Does your conversation have a point?"

His smile wavered, eyes narrowing. "My employer would like to hire your services."

"And what services does your employer think I offer?"

"Surely we can work _something_ out."

Yeah, right. Something. Dormé suspected what that something would be and rolled her eyes, downing the last of her drink. "Surely not. I'm not interested in whatever work your employer thinks I would do for him."

"You look like a dancer."

Of course she did. Dormé could well imagine the sort of dancing that would be requested of her: horizontal and without music. "I'm not a dancer, nor do I aspire to be one."

"My employer is very rich in this area. He has a barge and a palace. It'd do a pretty girl like you good to accept the position he's willing to offer you. You would be favored. He likes dark haired females. Honest work..."

Honest? Dormé sat forward. Did she have a sign on her forehead that asked creeps and weirdoes to come right up to her? "Look, I don't care if your employer owns half of Tatooine. I'm not interested."

The man stepped back, nodding. "You will be, pretty girl. Think on that offer, hmm?"

An odd encounter and one she'd rather forget. She'd hoped that this establishment would be different, but every single one she went into had some creep coming on to her. Even being all swathed in her cloak hadn't made a difference. Shaking her head, she left the bar. Maybe she'd have better luck with relative solitude at the next bar.

Several hours later, she discovered one that served tea. Bizarre, but then she was beginning to understand that Tatooine was bizarre in many ways. She sat down at a table in the far corner, the furthest away from the others and surveyed the room. She wished Tepin were with her, but that was impossible. They had been happy for awhile, until the Jedi were killed and the empire had taken out it's wrath on Queen Apailana. Tepin had been at the Palace that day, on duty when Imperial troops had descended. Dormé had fled for her life.

She'd not been silent on her views of the empire and of the ludicrous official stories bandied about, growing more and more vocal until it had been a certainty that if the empire _did_ come to Naboo, she'd be among those rounded up for questioning and eventually death. And so, she'd ended here, on a sandy hot planet that held no love for the empire or the rebels that had begun to fight it. It was, therefore, the perfect place to hide until she decided what to do with her life.

Working for the Hutts wasn't something she desired -- and she'd already had more offers for that than she cared to --, nor did she fancy moisture farming. What else was there? She was certain there were things she could do when she inevitably needed employment. There had to be someone who needed her talents in the area of security. Where to find that person however? She hadn't a clue.

Dormé sighed, ever since leaving Naboo, she'd taken odd jobs here and there, staying as low on the empire's radar as possible. She'd worked for five smugglers and pirates, had eleven close encounters with Imperial troops and missed her friends and husband the entire while. She'd played decoy for a female thief and learned the art of running a con. Val had been a wealth of information in that area. She'd finally made her way back to this end of the galaxy. Nothing like taking a circuitous route to make certain you're not being followed.

All she really desired was to settle down once more. Maybe make a friend or two and live in peace and quiet.

Since the day her life had turned upside down, she'd wondered on the Jedi; how many were left and if any she'd known were in that number. The news of Anakin Skywalker's demise at the Temple had saddened her. She'd imagined that he'd fought hard to save the lives of the children and his colleagues. And then the news of Padmé's death on top of it. How she had cried! They'd both been good people.

She gulped her drink, shoving aside maudlin thoughts. There'd been far too many of them for a very long time. With a wistful sigh, she wished for some silliness and levity to once more come her way.

* * *

Pure chance. That was what it had to be. There was no way Dormé was actually here on Tatooine. 

Obi-Wan set down his drink. He wasn't drunk was he? Mentally, he counted the number of drinks he'd had, then counted two more times to be sure. Nope, he'd only bought three of these. Anymore, that wasn't even enough to get him tipsy. He wasn't intoxicated.

Or was he, because that woman looked like Dormé. Her hair was shoulder length and her clothes were not the sort he recalled Dormé wearing. This woman across the bar was in a tight shirt and pants. Dormé had worn dresses. He watched her, very tempted to go strike up a conversation.

These trips he made were the only ones where he had good, old-fashioned face-to-face contact. He'd begun to crave conversation these past two months. The urge to come here had been nearly too strong to resist. So, he'd quit resisting it, coming into the spaceport for no real reason save that he was going stir-crazy. Lovely. What did he find here? A woman who looked startlingly like Dormé.

Perhaps he was hallucinating. The heat could do that.

"Pretty, huh?"

He turned his head, saw the barkeep motion towards the woman. "Yes, she is."

"She comes in every afternoon and has for almost a week. Stays until business picks up, has tea with a drink on the side, then leaves."

Obi-Wan's interest perked. "You serve tea?"

The man glanced about and leaned closer. "Don't spread it about. I've got a slave trader that comes in who won't touch anything else. He drops a lot of business my way, so I accommodate him."

"Makes perfect sense," he replied, taking a sip of his drink. "Has she given a name or anything?"

"Nope. Not a talker, that one. Orders, drinks, leaves. Tips well."

The more Obi-Wan watched the woman, the more he thought it had to be Dormé. But if it was her, then where was her husband and why was she even here? Tatooine was not a vacation spot. It was out of the way and the various inhabitants very dangerous. This was not a place to come to unless one had no other choice.

If it was Dormé, then what should he do? Obi-Wan stroked a finger along his beard. Thoughts of her had remained in the back of his mind for years now. He'd tried to remember her without sadness. His mind went back over old ground, returning to the history between them and when the woman left the bar, Obi-Wan followed behind her, keeping to the shadows.

* * *

Palamon Perrin, successful slave trader, was not a happy man. He was growing older and craved having a sweet young thing by his side to bear his children and be his companion in his distinguished years. He was only eighty three, still young compared to the rest of his brothers and the only one without a wife and children to carry on his name. He'd put his career first, throwing all of his energies into proving successful with the failing family business. Why, he'd built up his slave trade practically from scratch! 

He sighed, drinking down his tea and motioning for more. He was growing so lonely and beginning to feel his age. A shudder worked through him. A young wife would be just the thing to rejuvenate him, but where was he going to find one? He didn't like to pick from his merchandise. The very thought was distasteful. He needed a woman of feisty nature and great beauty and to be honest, the women he sold were little better than animals. Oh, they had a rough sort of beauty, but he much preferred a more refined kind.

Okay, the woman didn't need to be feisty, just pretty would do and he really didn't care if she had anything in the way of brains. Although... He frowned. It wouldn't do to have children that were dull-witted. Wouldn't his brother Perstemon enjoy teasing him over that? No, he decided, he'd have to find one with brains or at least street smarts.

His glance went about the bar, falling on the woman in the corner. She got up to leave, her efforts to put on her cloak emphasizing her trim figure. Quite a rack on her, he thought, eyes widening. Look at those... I'd get quite a pretty chunk of change for her with a figure that, all slender and curved at the same time. Just what men want in this area...

Hey wait a minute, he thought, an idea forming. What about _her_? Why not proposition her? She was pretty enough and moved with confidence. This was not some dumb slut trolling the bars for clientele. This one looked to be a real lady. He chortled. Wouldn't that just be a stick up Perstemon's backside? He imagined walking into his brother's house with that woman on his arm -- she'd be pregnant of course, with triplets. Palamon grinned wider, motioning to the underling waiting behind him. "Follow her. Find out where she goes and report everything to me."

He ordered another cup of tea and dreamed of his new future with the woman in the corner. Once he had information on her, he'd arrange to...woo her. How could she resist a man like him?


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Third Time's A Charm

**Author**: kasey8473

**Summary**: Sequel to 'Tea For Two'. Four years after the rise of the Empire, Obi-Wan and Dormé meet again.

**Chapter**: Two

**Rating**: M for humor

**Disclaimer**: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended.

**

* * *

**She was being followed. 

Dormé slowed her pace. The man had been behind her for several minutes, ever since she'd left the last bar. He probably thought he was being sneaky about it. They all thought they were being sneaky. She rolled her eyes and made her way into an alley to wait.

One week on this planet and she'd had more men following her about than she knew what to do with. Maybe Val had been right to question her plan to stay here. It seemed she was going to have a string of men behind her everywhere she went, which was getting annoying fast.

I'm not a raving beauty, she thought, so why this sudden turn? Are faintly attractive women that difficult to find on Tatooine?

A shadow fell across the opening to the alley.

* * *

Oh dear, Obi-Wan didn't like the look of this. The woman he was certain was Dormé had a man following her besides him. An unsavory, rough looking man that appeared the sort who ate live creatures for his meals. Maybe he should see if she required some assistance... 

Nope. It was a 'blink and you miss it' fight. The woman made a move that was pure Dormé, the same move that had been used on the thief in the park that day long ago. Punch, kick, punch. The man who'd grabbed her went down, striking his head on a stone. With a grunt, he was out.

Well done, Obi-Wan decided. Quick and efficient.

The woman looked around, noticed Obi-Wan and returned to a fighting stance. "Tell your employer I am uninterested in a position on his barge. I _don't_ dance." The voice was Dormé's, striking a harmonious pleasant chord in his memory.

Obi-Wan reached up and lowered his hood, revealing his face. "I don't dance either if I can help it, though I was required to learn several as a youngling. For diplomatic functions, you know."

She gasped, hands raising to cover her mouth. Her gaze traveled over him, recognition, shock, and then relief in her eyes.

He smiled. "Apparently, the galaxy is a smaller place than I thought it was."

"Obi-Wan," she whispered. "How...?"

He held up a hand to stop her. "I suggest we find a safer place for a chat, Dormé. Your admirer will be stirring in a moment."

Her glance fell to the ground. After a few long seconds, she nodded. "Very well. There's much to say."

"I know." She was correct. There _was_ much to say, like 'why didn't you contact me' and 'why are you here and not safe at your home'. He found himself very curious as to what had brought her to Tatooine.

Lifting the hood of her cloak so that it covered her head and shadowed her face, Dormé came to him, hesitated, then fit her hand into the crook of his elbow. The touch was familiar and Obi-Wan covered her hand briefly with his. Her fingers were cold, trembling just a fraction. Obi-Wan led her into one of his favorite restaurants. The interior was dark and cozy and privacy could be obtained simply by sitting on the same side of the table.

The host led them to a table at the back.

Dormé sat across from him. She glanced at the menu, kept her attention on it. She didn't ask if he'd eaten there before or if he thought a certain dish sounded good, avoiding beginning conversation. The ensuing silence between them was mildly awkward in Obi-Wan's opinion. He waited until after their order had been taken and their server retreated before speaking.

Crossing his arms, he rested them on the table edge. "You never contacted me." Though he tried to keep the words neutral, he couldn't help the faint accusatory tone that was interjected.

"Nor you I," Dormé returned, copying his pose and tone.

"You never wrote."

"Nor you. It goes two ways."

"I had feelings for you."

"And I you."

He paused, searching her eyes for some spark of that affection she claimed she'd felt. He saw it there, mixed with regret and a lacing of fear. Fear? Was she afraid of him? If not him, then what? "You married another man."

Her gaze dropped to the table for a few seconds before returning to his. "I know."

"Why?" Did he even have the right to ask that question? Obi-Wan swallowed hard. He wanted to hear that she'd fallen madly, deeply in love with Tepin, that her love for the man had been the full sweeping sort that eclipsed all thoughts of others. And conversely, he wanted to hear that she'd never forgotten him and her love for her husband had been shallow and unfulfilling. Which was utterly ridiculous, wasn't it? She'd married him, after all. She must have loved Tepin deeply and he had no right to ask why she'd married Tepin in the first place.

"There was no future for us. I wanted more than friendship, more than secret meetings whenever you could come to Coruscant, or meetings veiled as strictly platonic." She shrugged, repeating, "I wanted a future."

"I could have given you a future." Gladly. He'd have given her whatever she wanted -- within the restrictions of his Jedi vows. There were ways around some of the restrictions, plays on words that could be made. The sort of things he knew others had done.

"Could you have given me marriage, Obi-Wan?"

It was his turn to look away. He _would_ have given her everything -- except the one thing he couldn't give: marriage. He would have pledged himself to her, promised to remain faithful, but never that legal state anywhere in the Republic. No marriage. What could have been had circumstances been very different still made his heart ache, though he'd tried to put it away. He'd succeeded for awhile, until he'd come here with time to think on all the things that had gone wrong in every part of his life.

In the end, Obi-Wan had not forgotten his Dormé. That business of life had led him right back to her. "No," he replied, shaking his head. "I couldn't have given you marriage."

"I wanted marriage. I wanted a _future_ together--"

"There are many definitions of what a future together could be. It all depends on your point of view."

She leaned back in her seat, tucking her hair behind her ears. Obi-Wan found himself mourning the loss of those long locks she'd once had. "My point of view has changed drastically on many matters. I was so naïve then, so cowardly."

"Cowardly," he began to ask, but their food arrived, distracting them both. He watched her tuck into a large platter with gusto, eating steadily yet still savoring the food as he'd once watched her do. How long had it been since she'd had a proper meal, he wondered? She'd grown thinner since the last time he'd seen her, her face and form leaner. "You're thinner than I recall," he said, pausing in his own eating.

"Thanks to the empire. Times have become difficult for even the honest merchants and such and worse for those who must avoid Imperial scrutiny if at all possible. The crew I just left last week ate much better than the one I was with before them and so forth. Right after I left Naboo was the worst." Dormé took another bite, chewed and swallowed, then sipped her drink before continuing. "When I left, I threw things in a bag, whatever I couldn't leave behind for sentimental reasons and necessity. Surprisingly little, really. A datapad, a few pieces of jewelry and clothes. A friend helped me leave the planet. I changed my attire, cut my hair. I didn't dare use my accounts and it wasn't long after I left that my friend told me to remain off-planet. Imperial reasons. I've not talked with her since out of fear she might be taken."

"Are those reasons still active?"

Dormé nodded. "And after all this time. I keep checking, hoping I can go back, but I know I'll never be able to. Not with the situation as it is politically." She shoved her plate aside, wiped her mouth. "You haven't asked about Tepin."

He took a long drink from his cup, then asked her over the rim, "What happened? Your former employer told me you were happy and now I find you alone here."

Her attention turned about the room. There was no one close to hear her, he'd already checked that and done so many times since they'd sat. "Tepin is...gone. Did you hear that the Emperor had Queen Apailana killed, and her staff with her?"

A chill swept him head to toe, a sadness forming in response to the question she'd posed. He could guess quickly what had happened to Tepin, for to bring that up in relation to his name meant one thing. "I'd heard."

"He and two of her handmaidens tried to smuggle her away. I was told by a source that he was among the last to die, guarding her until his last breath. That..._Vader creature_ the Emperor keeps with him knew the secret passages. He had troops waiting and there was no chance for escape. Tepin died performing his duty."

He covered his face with one hand. Anakin. No...there was no more Anakin. Vader. Of course he'd know at least some of the passages. Anakin been there as a child, gone through some of them when they'd gone to re-take the palace with Padmé. Vader would know because of that. Obi-Wan sucked in a breath. If Anakin had not been with them, would Apailana, Tepin and the handmaidens have had a chance to escape? Or had their fate been set? "Believe me when I say that I am very sorry for your loss, Dormé." Uncovering his face, he stretched that hand across the table.

Dormé grasped it. Her grip was strong and firm. "Troops began house to house searches. My friend kept watch for me until she had to go herself. I fled, barely getting out of Theed before they put all the checkpoints up. You see, I and others doubted the official versions of...certain deaths...and I knew it was a matter of time before they came for me. Why wait and sit for your own execution?" Her smile was sad. "I mourned on the road and no one questioned why I was sad or why I eschewed attachments. I was one of the crew, but not a part of the group, if that makes any sense."

It made perfect sense. Why form an attachment when pain was caused by a deep one? He fought against wincing and didn't succeed. That hit a bit close to home, didn't it? Anakin's betrayal was like the continued thrusting of a knife into his heart and he forced the memory back. "We're two of a kind," he murmured, releasing her hand. They'd have to continue their discussion of the past later. The restaurant was filling up and the privacy they'd had was soon to be gone. "What are your plans?"

Dormé shrugged. "Well, I was going to retire and make a home here, but I find I'm capturing far too much interest of villainous men. I'm afraid if I stay here too much longer, I'll find myself carted off to 'dance' on a barge or in a dingy back room in some...establishment."

"I'm afraid the spaceports are filled with such men. Thugs, scum of the galaxy and villains aplenty. You could look in surrounding towns."

She laughed. "There's not much here in any direction, Obi-Wan, I checked. Just sand, sand and more sand, as far as the eye can see. And binoculars can see. Sand."

"Check out the area," he insisted. "Why don't you come out my way? You might find it better suited for you." Was he inviting her to leave with him? Obi-Wan frowned, motioning to their server for the bill. He was, wasn't he? Shouldn't he be upset over the way they had not connected years earlier?

Maybe. In reality, he found himself eager for the company of a friend; someone who never seemed to lack a topic of conversation and knew when silence was best. He recalled that she'd appeared so at ease in the silences during their conversation, while he'd felt awkward.

Dormé stared at him a long moment. Her expression indicated she was waiting for a catch and when he didn't say anything more, she nodded. There was a cynical gleam in her eyes that he didn't remember being there years before. "Very well. I'll go with you to wherever town you call home these days."

"I don't actually live in town." He smiled. "Shall I pick you up tomorrow at midmorning? I really must obtain some supplies and should have them squared away by then."

They parted company moments later, all arrangements made. Obi-Wan felt a hope growing inside him. Even if she left after looking the area over, it would still be nice to have her company for a few days. He strolled a short while, considering her tale. There were a few details he wanted to check on.

Two hours later, he'd researched her story and covered his tracks as best he could -- in case anyone was watching the information trail. She was telling the truth, but her tale had left out the worst parts of what had occurred. The official story was that families of key members of Apailana's staff had been brought to Darth Vader for questioning and had sworn allegiance right there to the Empire. Obi-Wan could read between the lines well enough. Translation: They'd been told to denounce Apailana and swear allegiance immediately or suffer the fate of loved family members. He could also translate the official versions of other events, such as that house to house search for Apailana's supporters and remaining Jedi.

Obi-Wan also came across an article on Dormé. She was listed as missing and wanted for questioning regarding Apailana's traitorous acts. Her life was laid out in that article, from her schooling all the way through her activities on Naboo after her marriage. She'd mentioned doubting official stories, but she'd not mentioned how she'd actively pursued the truth on many stories. Asking questions, interviewing people, searching records. The article called her a 'dangerous radical twisting truth for her own ends'.

He found that darkly amusing, since it was the other way around. It was the empire that twisted truth and did so without a second thought.

That musing inevitably set him on the path of brooding about Anakin, so he bought a bottle of his favorite liquor and headed for the room he'd taken for the night.

* * *

She hadn't honestly been this excited in a long time. Dormé spent the night tossing and turning in her lumpy bed and woke up early, feeling a bit groggy and out of sorts from her fitful sleep. Still, she found she was looking forward to spending time with Obi-Wan. The feeling that was burgeoning swept her back in the years and she recalled that nervous searching through her closet that day on Coruscant. 

She opened her bag to take out clothes for the day, her hands drawn to one small, carefully rolled and secured bundle. With a half-smile, Dormé lifted it and untied the ribbon she'd wrapped about it to keep it rolled. With gentle hands, she unrolled the garment and held it up. The blue would still match Obi-Wan's eyes and Dormé wondered what had possessed her to drag this dress with her all across the galaxy.

It had been her choice for that tea and she'd worn it to see Obi-Wan, that last time they'd met face-to-face. It had been put away that day and not worn since. Oh, she'd meant to bring it out and wear it for Tepin, but somehow, she'd forgotten to do so, leaving it wrapped up all this time.

You didn't forget, her mind whispered, and that was the problem.

She gave it a shake. What wrinkles were in the fabric shook out and she drew a loving eye along the lines of it. This dress really had been one of her favorites. The fabric, the beading. Out of all her clothes, those pretty dresses Tepin had bought her and those she'd had before their marriage, she'd been unable to leave this one behind. She recalled that moment of hurried packing, with Rabé keeping a look out, urging her to be quick before the troops made their way to that street. She'd tossed things into her bag and dug for this dress. The urge to take this dress had been like needy fingers upon her, grasping, insistent. She'd _had_ to find it.

Rabé had looked at her like she was crazy for that, but Dormé knew she wasn't crazy. The dress was a link to her past, a gentler time when there had appeared at least some order in the galaxy.

Her teeth dragged along her lower lip. Would it still fit? She'd lost weight on her forced meanderings through the galaxy. Setting it on the bed, Dormé slipped off her nightclothes and pulled on the dress. Working the buttons in the back was a challenge, but one she rose to, and after a long moment, she had it fastened. It fit, though looser in places. The bodice was snug, as it had been, and the skirt slung just a fraction lower on her hips. All in all, it felt good to have it on again, if only for a few minutes.

Dormé went to the mirror and turned this way and that, smoothing the fabric. She allowed herself a wistful smile, imagining how Obi-Wan would react if he saw her in this again. Would he be pleased? Or would it make him sad to remember it?

His invitation to go with him had surprised her. She'd not expected it. What she had expected was a reserve after the beginning of their conversation, but no, he'd warmed up again and memories of their past conversations had leapt to her mind. She had a good feeling about the trip with him. Something good was going to happen, she knew it.

Giving one last brush of her hand along the fabric, Dormé decided she should change before he arrived. Maybe after they'd talked for awhile and cleared the air a bit better she'd bring up the subject of her dress, but she wasn't going to wear it today. That simply wasn't a good idea. It occurred to her that she'd been extremely overdressed that day, wearing this to tea. How silly she must have looked in this fancy dress!

A noise behind her startled her. Dormé had just enough time to see a large man behind her before darkness descended and consciousness left her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Third Time's A Charm

**Author**: kasey8473

**Summary**: Sequel to 'Tea For Two'. Four years after the rise of the Empire, Obi-Wan and Dormé meet again.

**Chapter**: Three

**Rating**: M for humor

**Disclaimer**: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended.

**

* * *

**

He was early. Obi-Wan chose to wait outside until closer to their appointed meeting time. It wouldn't do to wake her, now would it? Or did old habits die hard? Had she risen with the dawn? He closed his eyes a moment, shaded them with one hand. The sunlight was far too bright this morning and his head ached a tad, but other than that, he was ready for whatever the day might bring. His hangover wasn't too horrible and he'd even managed a light breakfast, though just the thought of the eggs the man at the next table had been eating brought a nauseas twisting to his belly.

Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan occupied himself watching the side of the building. There was a large, hulking figure of a man scaling the outside. Business as usual in the spaceport. Such occurrences were far more common than authorities liked to have bandied about. The man slipped inside through a window and came out after a few minutes with a woman thrown over his shoulder. Obi-Wan watched, wondering who the woman was and who the man worked for.

The descent took less time than the ascent. Obi-Wan frowned, staring at the window. Something about that window teased at his brain. There was something he knew he should be remembering, but what was it?

The man disappeared around the corner just as Obi-Wan made a mental count of where Dormé's room was in the building. This side, second window on the third level...

Wait a minute. _Dormé_!

He straightened, and was inside the building hurrying towards Dormé's room before he'd given himself time to really think. Reaching out with the force, Obi-Wan disengaged the door lock. The door opened as he reached it. The room was empty, the covers of her bed in disarray and a bag opened on the bed. She had been getting dressed. Hurriedly, Obi-Wan tossed the clothes at the foot of the bed into the bag, closed it and took it with him.

Dormé was being kidnapped and he had to put a stop to it.

* * *

She woke on a soft bed that was far more luxurious than what she was used to in recent times. It didn't compare to that bed she'd had at Padmé's apartment though. Dormé came back to consciousness in slow degrees. At first, she was aware of her body and the bed. Gradually, light and sound joined that tactile awareness and she listened a long while before venturing to open her eyes. 

Above her head and around the bed was a filmy white netting. Dormé sat, peering through the netting. There didn't appear to be anyone with her.

What had happened? The last thing she remembered was a man in her room. How had he gotten in without her noticing? Easy, she thought. She'd been distracted by thoughts of that tea with Obi-Wan. She blinked, tucked her hair behind her ears and decided she should explore the room she was in.

Once the netting was parted, she wished she hadn't done so, for it revealed the most hideous decorating scheme she'd seen in a long while. My word, she thought. What drug was the interior designer on?

The colors were red, gold and purple, with a liberal use of overstuffed cushions, fake gemstones and mirrored panels. She cast a glance at the ceiling, unsurprised to note the mirrors set there in a grid pattern. Where was she?

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. The floor was warm against her bare feet. Dormé moved to the window and looked out. There was a fake stone balcony attached to the facade, enough of a balcony to lend a bit of romance to the drab stone the building was made out of. Outside was a courtyard, a wall and an ever stretching field of sand. Left, right and center was sand. Unfortunately, the window was too high to jump from. She'd likely break her neck if she tried it. Also unfortunate was that there wasn't a place to tie the sheets to use them as a rope.

The heat coming through the window was intense and Dormé ducked back inside, fanning herself with one hand in an ineffectual gesture to cool herself off. Spying three doors, she strode to them in turn. One was a closet, with a few garish robes and tiny, cheap looking dresses hanging inside. The second was locked and the third led to a refresher. There was a small stack of various sized towels on a table. Dormé took one, wet it and pressed it to her face and neck.

Much, much better. She was regretting her decision to come to Tatooine for the heat alone. It was far too warm in this place for comfort. She sighed. Her first step was to get out of here. There had to be a way to open that door.

An hour later, she'd worked out the various methods of picking a lock in her mind, remembering all of Val's lessons on the subject. She decided to try the simplest one first, though Val had often mentioned that the simplest didn't usually work anymore. People were too cautious and went for overkill in the lock department, which was downright inconvenient for a hard working thief.

She'd tried not to learn too much about Val's past except to know that he came from a long line of men working in the nebulous gray area of what could be considered stealing by some people and legitimate dealing by others. He alternately called himself a pirate, smuggler, thief and businessman. Who knew what he really was. Dormé didn't care to know. He'd kept her fairly safe for nearly a year and taught her whatever he could think of regarding 'the business'.

Dormé now possessed a set of skills in that line of work along with her previous skills in the area of being a handmaiden. Of course, she'd never really had a chance to try out those new skills by herself...

The door opened on the first try. She could have kicked herself for wasting an hour thinking about it and planning eight different contingency plans in case the others didn't work. Maybe the Val method hadn't been the right one this time.

There was no one in her way. The house was ludicrously empty of presences. A couple times she'd heard voices, but saw no one. It was almost insulting. To kidnap her and not put a guard on her? She was a trained bodyguard. She was dangerous, darn it! No guard at all _was_ insulting.

An annoyed frown tugging her brow, Dormé went through a door and found herself in the garage. Though the light was off and the room in darkness, she smelled all the sorts of smells associated with such a place and felt a pang of homesickness. During their marriage, Tepin had dragged her to so many garages she'd lost count. She remembered standing by, bored out of her skull, as he'd 'oohed' and 'ahhed' over the latest in speeders or some obscure part that was used to fix up an older model.

The search for the light switch didn't improve her temper. She managed to stub her toes painfully -- twice. Muttering words many people would be shocked to hear she knew, Dormé moved to the newest looking speeder. New, old, they were all the same. They were speeders. What more could be said? One was blue, another green and there was one with yellow stripes across the room. Her inability to connect types of speeders with year and model numbers had been a source of great amusement to Tepin, who'd made jokes about it to his buddies. Many a time, she'd gritted her teeth and smiled sweetly as they'd all laughed.

She'd had many laughs herself though, for he'd been hopeless in the kitchen.

Dormé settled herself in one speeder, familiarizing herself with the controls as she kept an ear out for any pursuit. It was an standard model, she thought, much like the ones she'd handled before. Piece of cake. Now where was the control for the bay door?

Before she could touch anything, the door raised, revealing a man who was large enough and ugly enough to be the man who'd taken her from her room. "Oh, not good," she murmured, flipping switches. The speeder didn't do anything. There was not even a whirring or belching of smoke. Nothing. This speeder was dead.

The man came towards her. "Leaving so soon? Paly won't like that."

She scrambled across the seat as he reached for her, hiking her skirt high. Maybe she could make a run for it. However, the thought of the sand and the heat didn't particularly appeal. Not to mention she had no idea exactly where she was. Running off into the desert could get her killed far quicker than staying here and seeing what her abductor's plans were. "Release me," she gasped, keeping the speeder between them.

He chuckled. "Paly says you stay, so you stay. Can't have you running off."

Who was Paly? Dormé had a pretty good idea why she'd been stolen. After all, flesh seemed to be the one thing that was worth something on this planet. "I can't stay here. I'll be missed."

"By that man you were with?" The bay door closed. "Think again. He took your things, girlie. Took your bag and left. He's long gone."

Dormé shook her head. "He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't leave me." He was probably trying to find her now. Right? Obi-Wan wasn't a thief. He'd look for her and chances were he'd find her.

"He already did, now how about we go back inside and you refresh yourself for a light repast with my Master? You must be hungry by now."

Thinking over her options with the door closed, Dormé realized she had no option except the immediate one. The speeder was out of the question and so was running into the desert. She'd just have to see what she could do. Drawing herself up and pasting a regal mien about herself, she inclined her head. "Very well. I'm interested to know just why I was abducted in such a crude manner."

The man chuckled. "Oh, he'll like you. Better practice saying 'I do', girlie."

* * *

Three languages didn't give enough satisfying curses and Val Kallin started on the fourth, pacing up and down the crew lounge. He hadn't been quick enough lifting off. He should have known his Uncle had spies everywhere. It was a way of life on Tatooine. He finished the last round of curses and decided that perhaps a sixth round wasn't needed. He'd vented his frustrations neatly and would only be repeating himself if he continued. Val hated repeating himself. 

He also hated having familial obligations. He especially hated anything to do with his great-uncles. They were lecherous, querulous and thoroughly dishonest men to such a degree that they gave lecherous, querulous, dishonest men a bad name. He hadn't gotten off that rock quick enough.

Glancing over his shoulder, he found the youngest member of his crew watching him with an amused expression. "What," he said sourly, pausing his pacing with his hands resting on his hips.

Glem shook his head. "Nothing, boss. You want us to turn around and start back?"

"I suppose." He snorted. "I'd rather ignore the old lech's summons, but that'd make family reunions hell. Can't have that. Mom'd be pissed at me. Turn us around, we'll do the obligatory bowing and scraping." Catching Glem's raised brow, he amended, "_I'll_ do the obligatory bit. The rest of you can stay with the ship, maybe see if Dormé's still in the port."

That was a good idea. Chances were that after a week of that place she was ready to leave. He would be. He'd been ready to leave the second he'd been old enough to take over from Uncle Perstemon. Val had sacked the crew and taken on a new, younger crew, periodically replacing members over the years. Like Dormé. He hated having to replace her. She'd been good at her duties and right fine to look at. Strange that he was having a difficult time finding a woman to take her place. Maybe there'd be one on Tatooine.

He doubted it, but there was always the possibility that one of his female acquaintances would decide to take to this life. Not a good possibility, but he supposed he had to believe it could happen. There had to be hope.

Val began a slow search of the ship for anything that could be used as a present for old Palamon. Nothing too expensive if possible and the tackier the better.

* * *

Tracking was harder than Obi-Wan remembered it being. He'd had several false starts after losing the man in the maze of streets, but at last, he thought he'd found the right trail. He followed it, pausing occasionally to press a hand to his steadily and increasingly aching head. Each time, he made a promise never to drink again. 

Well, he hoped Dormé was okay. He knew she could take care of herself and half expected her to be in the process of escaping when he caught up with them. That would be fine. He'd have the speeder ready and all she'd have to do would be to jump in.

Obi-Wan continued his task under the merciless sunlight.

* * *

The mirror didn't lie. Unfortunately. 

Palamon stared at his reflection. Perhaps his manservant was right and it was a little too late to start using anti-wrinkle cream. After all, he already _had_ wrinkles. Putting two fingers on his forehead, he pushed the skin gently up towards his hairline -- which in his opinion had grown a bit too high in the past couple decades. Should he consider a hairpiece?

He let go of his forehead. The wrinkles drooped back down.

Would his new beauty like his hair as it was? And the wrinkles... Would she see them as distinguished?

Palamon knew she would. How could she not? He was a prime catch and at the right age to provide splendidly for a young wife. He was rich, good looking. _He_ thought he was good looking. His slaves had all agreed on that just that morning. The women assured him he was handsome and the men agreed as well. Palamon Perrin was a handsome man. Why, he resembled the Emperor himself! Well, before Palpatine had been attacked by the Jedi.

Handsome indeed! He smiled. I can't wait to marry her, he thought. She'll be Mrs. Perrin.

He frowned, blinking. Now what was the wench's name again? It began with an 'n'. No, a 'p'. No, that wasn't it. 'S'? "Jarvis," he called out to his manservant. "What _was_ her name again?"

"Dormé, sir."

That was right. Dormé. Delicious Dormé.

Palamon gave himself a good dousing with cologne, then added more when he liked the scent. Jarvis gave a choking cough. He ignored him. Such a drama queen. It smelled _good_. The _baby_.

Dormé Perrin. It had a nice ring to it. Dormé, he thought. Today is your lucky day. You get to marry..._me_.

* * *

Dormé had refused to change clothes or wash up any, though she did take advantage of the brush provided to smooth the snarled mess her hair had become. When she was done, she was led into a dining room. It was a large room, with a rectangular table in the center that was set splendidly for two. Candles, expensive dishes and a fruit bowl. Her host wasn't there. She snatched a piece of fruit and ate it while continuing her study of the room. At least the designer hadn't continued the mirror theme here. Dormé rather liked the decorations. Simple and elegant. Maybe the house was in the process of being redecorated and the room she'd been put in was not finished yet? 

The door behind her opened and she turned, starting at her first glimpse of the man.

It was Palpatine. And he looked like his old self.

No, she shook her head, banishing the thought with a blink. It wasn't him. It was a man that looked a lot like him. The features were so close that it was disturbing. He even had that...oily smile.

"You look marvelous, my beauty. So luscious, so beautiful. My Dormé."

His? Oh gag. She swallowed hard, ignoring the hand he motioned towards a chair. She'd rather stand. "I don't recall us ever meeting. You are who exactly?"

His smile widened into a grin, exposing yellowed teeth. "My name is Palamon. Remember it, because you'll be screaming it later." His brows did a lascivious wiggle, gaze like groping hands upon her body.

Dormé's lips parted and she crossed her arms in an attempt to cover up. Perhaps she should have changed clothes, though she hadn't seen anything in that closet that would cover her up any better. "I decline the rather crude invitation. Release me now and I won't press charges."

"It's not an invitation," he informed her haughtily, stepping closer with a swagger that she thought was supposed to be sexy. All it did was make her wonder if he was about to keel over. "It's a promise." He thrust his hips forward with the last word and Dormé clenched her jaw to hold back the laughter building in her chest. The laugh came out sounding like she was choking.

He thought he was going to seduce her? Her? She'd admit to liking older men, but not quite this old. A few years older than herself was just the ticket. Like Obi-Wan's age. "I still decline. Please release me."

Palamon stared at her, that confident smile fading. His lips pursed as he thought. Slowly, he raised a finger and shook it at her, the smile returning. "You're playing hard to get. Dormé, Dormé. Very naughty earlier, picking the lock on your room and getting to the garage. Naught, naughty. I should spank you for that."

"Touch me and you lose a hand," she informed him, moving so the table was between them. "Seriously. I'm not kidding. This is not an idle threat. I will do it."

"Such a minx. Let's do it, beauty. Rowr!" He chuckled, a sound that reminded her of all things like crunching glass. "Right here, right now."

"I'm not kidding. I am a trained bodyguard --"

"I see that, beauty. Guard my body." He lunged for her, knocking over the candlesticks and the water carafe. "Guard me, Dormé!" He ended up splayed on the tabletop, hands stretching for and legs wiggling as he tried to work his way across the table to her. The table creaked ominously under his weight. "Come to me, let's not refuse our passion any longer!"

"Oh, heavens!" Dormé threw herself back, tripping over the hem of her skirt and landing with a thud on the floor. Was it bizarre that if a certain other man in her life behaved like this she'd be giggling and thinking it was silly playfulness? From Palamon however, it was creepy.

Plates slid off the table and splintered into pieces with a crash. "Ignore the dishes, my love, they're not important! What's important is that we follow our hearts!"

"You are a seriously disturbed man," she informed him, pushing herself back to standing and rubbing her bruised posterior. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Let your passion overwhelm you." He finally reached the edge of the table and swung his legs over it. "You don't have to be afraid, my love. I'll be gentle."

"You'll be dead if you touch me." Bending, Dormé snatched up one tall candlestick and brandished it at him. "Again, I'm not kidding. I will hurt you."

"Oh, hurt me, beauty. Hurt me good."

"Oh, eeuw."

Suddenly, he stopped moving, watching her with a furrowed brow. "I'm getting the vibe that perhaps you're not in the mood right now."

"That's observant. Release me!"

"You need time to think about our love, don't you?"

"Our love? Are you insane? I've never seen you before in my life."

He sighed. "Very well. I can wait for tonight. I shall dream all afternoon of your breasts, your thighs, your..." he trailed off, wiggling his brows again. "Tonight, my love, all of your fantasies will come true."

Just how was he going to accomplish that? Her fantasies certainly didn't include this man. Nor did they include garish rooms and forced captivity. What they did include was a man who was apparently taking his own sweet time about finding her. "You need help. Seriously. I'm sure there are doctors in town who could--"

"I suppose I do need help." He sobered, then called out, "Oh Samson! Please escort my guest to the gallery and see she's made comfortable."

The large, ugly man returned and Dormé left with him rather than spend another moment with Palamon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: Third Time's A Charm

**Author**: kasey8473

**Summary**: Sequel to 'Tea For Two'. Four years after the rise of the Empire, Obi-Wan and Dormé meet again.

**Chapter**: Four

**Rating**: M for humor

**Disclaimer**: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended.

**

* * *

**She was teasing him. Palamon had come to that conclusion when she'd brandished the candlestick at him. She was trying to whet his appetite for their wedding night. Fine. She could spend a few hours in the gallery while he tried to get the master bedroom ready. Oh, and maybe he should actually bring a holy man out for the ceremony too. 

All that mattered was getting to tonight. He smiled, daydreaming about the rolling about that was going to transpire on his bed that night. She looked like a woman who knew what to do with a man. Of course, he'd prefer if she didn't actually _know_ what to do, but that was such an unpredictable matter these days. Women liked to think they were independent and he'd let her have that illusion once they were hitched.

Palamon chuckled. He couldn't wait. He loved how she'd dressed for him. How had she known that his favorite color was blue? That dress was perfect, displaying her figure wonderfully.

He gave his staff their orders and sat down to eat lunch and dream of... What was her name again?

* * *

On the walls of the gallery was an impressive collection of out-of-focus erotic pictures, all nicely framed and lit. How did she surmise that they were all supposed to be erotic? Because most were clear enough in places to reveal...details. Dormé wondered if the old boy thought that seeing these pictures might put her in a more agreeable mood. She sighed, staring at one picture with a critical gaze. 

The lighting had been poor wherever it was taken, as though shot in a regular room without any consideration for proper lighting. If she squinted, the picture actually wasn't too bad. She had to admit that the subject was worth looking at, with sleekly muscular limbs that were resting in such a way as to convey a mischievous air.

She raised a brow. If she looked at this picture long enough, she _might_ be a tad more agreeable, just not to the old lech in the dining room.

Her regard at last lifted to the man's face. It was turned away and in shadow, the features not quite as hazy as in the other photos. However, something about his face -- the line of the jaw perhaps -- tumbled about her memory. It was familiar. Strangely so. She leaned forward, closer to the picture. Dormé tilted her head a fraction, staring it, searching memory for anyone she knew whose jaw had that curve and whose features could match what she could make out.

Suddenly, recognition clicked. "Oh," she gasped. No, it couldn't be. She was imagining it.

But the longer she stared, the more certain she became.

This was a picture of Anakin Skywalker. A stark naked Anakin Skywalker.

Dormé flushed. She felt heat fill her cheeks and glanced away a few seconds before looking back. Giving a glance left and right, assuring herself she was still alone in the room, she let herself study the image once more.

Oh my, she thought. Very nice. Very nice indeed.

* * *

Glem was waiting for Val in the crew area, holding a bottle of brandy. Val knew it was the last bottle. He lamented the fact that Dormé had declined his invitation. He'd much rather be savoring her and this brandy than spending time with his great-uncle. 

"Too good to waste on him," he said, taking the bottle.

"What about those nudie pics the guy on Solas IV paid us with? You could give them instead."

Val quickly nixed the idea. Tempting, but he didn't want to spend any more credits than necessary on the old man. "Nah. I'd have to have them framed. Too much of an expense." He sighed. "There's no word from Dormé by any chance, is there?" If there was, it'd be easier to blow off this social meeting. He could say that something came up.

Val smirked. Apt choice of words. He'd said it before and he'd say it again: Dormé was a good lookin' gal and he wouldn't have minded getting busy with her. Of course, she hadn't been interested, so he'd looked elsewhere. Still, he'd liked to enjoy looking at her when he had a free moment to contemplate the genteel beauty of her features.

That Naboo sure had good lookin' women aplenty on it. When it came time to retire, he thought he might head there and get him one o' them beauties. Every woman he'd met from there was pretty.

"Not a word, boss."

Too bad. Now he'd have to endure Palamon Perrin for at least the entire afternoon.

* * *

After spending far too long in the heat and humidity, Obi-Wan was glad to come to the end of his search. He was beat. Hopefully, this would take no time at all and they'd reach his home in time to take a short nap. Once more, he vowed to never drink again. 

He parked the speeder behind a huge boulder that for some odd reason was sitting in the middle of the desert all by its lonesome, and went to the house he'd glimpsed. Luckily, Dormé passed by a window and he didn't have to search for her, so he set his skills towards getting to her.

He scaled the outer wall, then the building itself, wondering why he couldn't seem to catch his breath and had to stop and rest, dangling in mid-air. This wasn't as easy as he remembered it being either. Am I this out of shape, he thought. It's only been four years since I was running about doing this sort of thing regularly. Obi-Wan hoisted himself onto the window sill and carefully stood before jumping through the window and into the room.

"Hello there," he said, looking about. He'd expected to find guards and other obstacles. Instead, he found Dormé alone, her attention on one of the pictures that adorned the walls of the room.

"I'm here to rescue you," he announced, somewhat piqued that after all his trouble, there was no resistance to the attempt. It had been too long since he'd been in a good rousing fight and he was afraid he might be getting rusty. Obi-Wan had been looking forward to using his skills at least a _little_. To not have the chance was disappointing.

Dormé motioned to him, not turning from the picture she was looking at. "Look at this picture, Obi-Wan."

He strode to her, sucking in breaths and glad his headache had finally abated. At first glance, he saw nothing to interest him. He much preferred art that displayed the naked female form. She was waiting for a reaction however, so he gave it another look, wondering what he was supposed to be seeing. The person in it was male, probably exercised every day by the muscular look of the arms and legs...

Obi-Wan stared, a frown turning his brow. He tilted his head a little to the left. Was that...? No, it couldn't be. He leaned in a bit closer to try and make the face clearer. Surely not...

Anakin?

What the blazes? Why would a slave trader on Tatooine have a picture of a very naked Anakin hanging on his walls? And how?

I've been in the desert too long, he thought, shaking his head. I'm beginning to see things.

Now Dormé shook a finger at the picture. "I look at this picture and I swear I see Anakin Skywalker's face."

I should hope it's only his face, Obi-Wan thought, hand raising to cover his mouth. He didn't think Anakin had carried on with Dormé though, considering he'd been carrying on with Padmé. Anakin had been somewhat of a flirt with the ladies, but he wouldn't have played two women at once.

"And that one," she pointed to the one beside it, "is my lady Padmé. Tell me I'm suffering heat stroke and it's only a delusion."

While heat stroke was a possibility on Tatooine, he didn't think it was a delusion. Obi-Wan turned to the next picture, gaze going first to the body. Now this was more like it. He much preferred this picture to the other. Nice. Very, very nice. Finally, he remembered he was supposed to be looking at the face and reluctantly raised his eyes to it. The features were veiled by hair and he decided Dormé honestly wasn't in the throes of illness. It could be Padmé and probably was. When had those two done this?

He winced, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. His headache had just returned in full force.

Oh Anakin, what did you do?

This had the mark of one of his youthful, irresponsible plans. Obi-Wan could easily imagine Anakin sweet-talking his lover into taking pictures, assuring her they'd be erased and forgetting to do so after becoming distracted by the activities taking these pictures had undoubtedly brought about. "It's not a delusion," he informed her.

"You see it too? Oh thank goodness! I've been standing here _staring_ at that picture all afternoon." She pointed to the man's picture.

"Really?" He glanced at the picture and back to her. His lips twitched. Staring, huh?

Dormé caught his expression and blushed. "I was looking at the face," she said a little too firmly.

"Mmm-hmm," he nodded. "And I only read the articles."

She gave a nervous giggle. "Yes, well... You mentioned rescue?"

With a last look at the picture of the woman, he nodded, motioning a hand towards the window. "Yes. Over the walls and through the desert. The speeder is outside a ways."

"How far a ways," she asked, crossing her arms. There was a look on her face that reminded him strangely of Padmé right then. He could practically see wheels turning as she thought up some plan.

"Walking distance. There was a huge boulder--"

"Good. Help me with these." In two steps, she was at the first of the pictures, carefully taking it down and slipping it from the frame.

"Help you?" Going to the window, he peered out. Still no one in the courtyard or any sign that he'd been discovered.

"Yes, of course. Help me. We can't leave these _here_, Obi-Wan."

"What, pray tell, are we to do with them?"

"Take them with us."

Obi-Wan tapped impatient fingers on the windowsill. "You want to steal the man's erotic picture collection?" That would make the situation better, yes? Just what he needed to add to his résumé: dirty picture thief. Oh, Qui-Gon was going to love this. "Have you thought this through, Dormé?"

"It would be disrespectful to the dead to leave them here."

"But..." He felt urgency rising, whether it was due to real danger or not was another matter. He just knew they needed to hurry. "Dormé."

"Think about Anakin."

Anakin would probably have taken the pictures of the woman and left the pictures of the man, reasoning that it served the lech right to have only pictures of naked men left. His mischievous side would have loved playing that trick.

"Think about _Padmé_." Her voice had the same passion her former employer had used when pleading a cause. Practiced, yet sincere. Obi-Wan felt himself beginning to cave in. Dormé had several pictures down now, held in the crook of her arm.

"Who is going to know who is in any of those pictures?"

"_We_ knew."

"Not for sure and I can assure you that men don't look at the faces. Listen to me, Dormé. Leave them here. No one will ever guess that those two people were a Jedi and a Senator."

She finished gathering the pictures and turned to him. He could see from her expression that he'd lost the argument. This path was set. He was going to steal the out of focus erotic pictures. "_I_ will know. They can't stay here, Obi-Wan. It's not right. I won't let the memory of either of them be tainted this way. They took these out of love for each other. Do you really think they'd want them displayed for anyone to look at them?"

He took them from her, held them while she cleared off the table in the corner. The cloth that covered it made a nice carrier and soon they were ready. She did a very good job of rappelling down the wall, then climbing and rappelling down the other one. Not wanting to appear as out of shape as he'd apparently gotten in four years, Obi-Wan forced himself to breathe evenly, while inside he was gasping.

Dormé seemed determined to sprint the entire way. By the time he spotted the boulder he was ready to collapse. Thank heavens, he thought. I can sit down.

But it soon became apparent that he'd thought that too quickly. Rounding the boulder, they found...sand. Nothing else. Just sand. He leaned against the boulder, squinting at the ground. "I left it here. I know I did." Setting the pictures down, he crouched, peering at the sand a bit harder. Then he spotted them. Tracks. Little, small, cursed, inconvenient...

"Bantha spit!" Obi-Wan straightened. He'd known the Jawas would steal anything left alone too long in the desert, but he hadn't even been half an hour!

"Bantha spit," Dormé asked. "That's a new one on me."

"Wonderful. Just absolutely wonderful. My supplies are gone and I'm out a speeder."

"You did bring the speeder, right?" She bent and retrieved the pictures.

Obi-Wan directed an indignant stare her direction. "I'm not an idiot. I wasn't _that_ hung over. I didn't hitch a ride and forget I'd done so. No, the speeder was right here. Those tracks are from Jawas. Now I'll have to pay _them_ for _my_ rightful property." He swallowed hard, took a deep breath and tried to interject some cheer into his voice. "Well, on to plan 'B' then, I suppose."

"What's plan 'B'?"

"As soon as I figure it out, I'll let you know. In the mean time, I suggest we get walking."

"We could always go back to Palamon's and borrow a speeder." Dormé grinned. Her hair was wild about her face and she had a pretty rosy tint upon her cheeks.

He returned the smile, letting his ill-humor leech away. Was it possible that she was even more beautiful than he'd remembered? "You mean like we 'borrowed' his art collection?"

She laughed. Obi-Wan liked the sound.

* * *

She was out of shape. Dormé pushed herself, determined that she wasn't going to gasp for breath. Obi-Wan was obviously still in top shape, having no trouble with their escape or the running across the desert. It was embarrassing yet sweet how he slowed down just so she wouldn't feel she was lagging behind. 

Her face was probably bright red. The curse of a fair complexion. Heat and exercise always did that. Dormé bet she looked absolutely hideous. Holding the pictures, she followed Obi-Wan as they set out walking. It was too bad his speeder had been stolen. Funny, that. She'd have expected the spaceport a more likely place for that to happen, but what did she know about this planet? Could be that the desert was more hazardous.

They walked in silence for several minutes and Dormé decided she should thank him for coming after her. He could have decided she wasn't worth the effort and gone on his merry way. That's not Obi-Wan though, she told herself. "Thank you," she said softly as they continued their trudging across the hot sand. Her feet were going to be very tender from the constant heat of that sand, but she could live with it.

"For what," Obi-Wan replied, shedding his cloak and tossing it over his arm. Sweat trickled from his temple, down his cheek and dripped on to his tunic. Dormé was glad she wasn't the only one sweating like swine out here.

"For rescuing me."

"Oh." He shrugged. "I couldn't let you be kidnapped. It would completely ruin our plans for today."

"Definitely." Silence fell again for several more breaths, during which Dormé noticed he did not look at her once. Obi-Wan's attention remained firmly fixed on the sandy ground. A sense of awkwardness settled upon her. She didn't know what to say.

Finally, he raised his head a little. "You had feelings for me."

"Yes." Still very much do, she added silently, wondering where he intended to take this particular conversation.

"Then why in the blazes did you not tell me? Don't you think it's the sort of thing a man might want to know from the woman he dreamed about at night?" Irritation rode his voice.

She paused her strides, watching him continue walking, her mouth opening and closing twice before she could form the words she was thinking in response. "You're kidding me, right? Should I have blurted it out, Obi-Wan? There at tea? Or perhaps in the museum with those dreadful children watching? Or maybe in the zoo--"

"Yes! I should have known!" He whirled, then shook his head, shoulders slumping. "No. No, I don't suppose blurting it out would have been best."

She took two steps closer to him. "Besides, _you_ could have mentioned you had feelings for _me_."

"I _kissed_ you," he said, as though a kiss was some grand, clear declaration of love and affection that she should not have been able to miss.

"Twice, and neither was too...involved, if you catch my meaning." She looked him up and down, a warmth curling lovingly in her belly at his admission of having dreamed about her. "You dreamed about me?" It pleased her.

"Of course I catch your meaning, Dormé. I do have _some_ experience in the matter of kissing a beautiful woman and yes, I _do_ dream about you." He licked his lips and when he continued, his voice was slower and softer. "Did. I meant to say 'did'."

There was a quicksilver pass of pain in his gaze and an immeasurable air of sadness. Dormé bit her lip and looked at the ground, uncertain of what to say once more. When she looked back up, he was walking away and she hurried to catch up.

* * *

Of all the things Val had expected, finding his great-uncle in the throes of a full-out melodramatic tantrum was not one of them. That, however was what he saw the minute he walked into the hall. 

"It's gone, Val, it's all gone!" Palamon grabbed the bottle of brandy out of Val's hands and opened it, taking a swig.

Val cringed. That was _not_ the way to treat a good brandy. "What's gone," he managed weakly, struggling with the urge to grab the bottle back and make a run for it.

"My collection. My wonderful picture collection!"

"You mean the pictures Saluc found in the trash?" Saluc was Uncle Peregrine's oldest grandson, known for being so cheap that he'd get gifts for the family from trash heaps. Saluc had found a camera on Coruscant in one of the really fancy sections and managed to salvage some nude pictures from it -- the sum of Palamon's collection.

"They've been stolen. I should have known that tart was up to no good. She _toyed_ with my emotions, strung me along with her feminine wiles, and _broke_ my heart!" He took another swig of brandy. "I wanted to marry her, Val, but she played me with false protestations until her accomplice showed up and they cleaned me out!" Palamon wailed. "Oh my sweet pretty..uh...Dor...Dor..._Dormé_," he finally came up with the name, blurting it out with a sob. "She of the deep cleavage and long legs! How could you, my love?"

Val blinked. Dormé? Did Palamon just say Dormé? How many women named Dormé could there be in this area right now? "Um, Unc., where did you meet this woman?"

"She was in a bar and we just _connected_, my boy. You know what I'm talkin' about." He chortled and waggled his brows, temporarily forgetting to cry and wail.

"Right. What did this...Dormé look like?"

"You should have seen her, Val. Dark hair, dark eyes, tits out to here," he illustrated with his hands to such massive proportions that Val knew he was exaggerating. No woman could have a rack like that without toppling over forward from the weight of them. "Legs that went all the way from her ass to the ground."

It was an asinine description, but Val knew what his great uncle meant. He'd had occasion to admire Dormé's assets a few times over the months she'd been a part of his crew. "Tell you what, Unc., I'll see what I can do."

An hour later, Val made his way back towards his ship.

What was Dormé doing, or thinking she was doing? And how had she found an accomplice so fast?

Scratch that. He had plenty of ideas on the latter. As to the former, was she going to ransom the collection?

Man, he thought sorrowfully as he considered such a scheme in his mind, why didn't _I_ think of that? I could have milked the old boy out of a fortune and all because of poorly shot erotic art. Peace and quiet. Uh-_huh_.

He should have known that wily minx had a con brewing in that pretty head of hers. The pupil had learned well and he was proud of her for pulling it off. Why, to click with the old man so quickly, she must have had her accomplice lined up and watching Palamon for weeks to know his weakness! That Dormé. What a gal. She was _good_.

Val was barely up the ramp before he was shouting out, "Hey guys, guess what Dormé did? You're all gonna love this!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: Third Time's A Charm

**Author**: kasey8473

**Summary**: Sequel to 'Tea For Two'. Four years after the rise of the Empire, Obi-Wan and Dormé meet again.

**Chapter**: Five

**Rating**: M for humor

**Disclaimer**: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended.

**Notes**: Feedback is greatly appreciated.

* * *

"I thought I had a crush. A silly, little crush, spurred on by the rush of teenage type hormones. It wasn't until later that I realized they were more. They didn't go away." 

"Silly? Gee, thanks." Obi-Wan snorted, shifting the pictures to his other arm. They kept returning to this conversation, an endless back and forth where they both tried to explain to the other what had happened between them. Looking back, he knew it had been for the best, though at the time, he had been confused and hurt, unable to figure out what had gone wrong, why she hadn't contacted him. Was their meeting now, at this point in their lives, an accident or chance? Did fate have more in store for them?

"Oh, stop it. You know I don't mean it like that. I saw what I had to look forward to and couldn't handle separation like that. If we had pursued more, and I knew we couldn't, I couldn't have coped with being parted. I can endure a lot of stress, but not in that area." Dormé paused, kicking sand. "I took the coward's way out by not acknowledging my feelings as they were at the time and not following them. I never said anything. I didn't try harder to... I messed up, okay? I should have--"

Why let her keep going under the obvious delusion she had that their misconnection back then had been all her fault? "I messed up, too."

"What?"

"There _were_ two of us, Dormé. Two hearts involved. One heart does not a relationship make. I messed up too. However, the fact of it is that even had we followed our feelings, we likely would have been split apart anyway." Obi-Wan stopped walking, stretching out a hand to touch her arm. "Consider that. You could not have gone with me when everything blew up and I could not have risked contacting you. Knowing what we both know now about what occurred, if we had tried for a future together we would have found...heartbreak. We could have had no future, not then."

Sadness tread her features. "Heartbreak happens."

"That it does." Obi-Wan considered the comment. 'Heartbreak happens'. Like Anakin. A brother lost into darkness and covered over by evil. Or in Dormé's case, like Tepin. A husband loved and lost. But there were also joys to balance the sadness and pain. He, personally, would always remember the happy moments from when Anakin was still a boy. A balance for what had ended their friendship. He would remember and wonder just where the break had begun inside that innocent boy and if there could have been any way to stop it.

Dormé put her hand on his, squeezed it. "What is it?"

"Ask me again sometime." He released her arm, yet kept a hold on her hand. Perhaps they should move on to a topic that didn't prick either of them emotionally. "Tell me, why did you choose that dress today? It _is_ the same one you wore to tea, isn't it?" Was she surprised at all by his memory? Obi-Wan didn't think he'd ever forget this dress.

Her chuckle was warm and filled with mirth. "That's a story. I've dragged this dress all around the galaxy with me and when I woke up this morning, I thought I'd try it on and see if it still fit. I don't know why I felt I had to right then. It could have waited. I wasn't actually planning to wear it to meet you. Put it on, then got kidnapped. Then I nearly got groped by a lecherous old man who claimed he wanted to marry me and rescued by a friend."

"Are we friends, Dormé?" He held his breath a little in anticipation of her answer.

She squeezed his hand. "I'd like to think we still are, despite what happened."

He made a noncommittal noise and let go of her hand, examining the dress. She still filled it out beautifully. "Maybe you should take off the dress." When she stopped and raised a brow, he knew he should explain the suggestion. He hadn't meant it in a lewd manner. Obi-Wan shifted his shoulders beneath his tunic. Or had he?

"I beg your pardon? I'll do no such thing." She tugged the bodice a bit higher. "We don't really know each other that well, Obi-Wan, and in the desert at this hour? I'd be sunburned to a crisp in unmentionable places in no time." The pink on her cheeks deepened.

A smile tugged the corners of his mouth. "I didn't mean it that way. What I meant, was that you don't seem to have the best of luck while wearing that dress. The last time you wore it, we were kicked out of a museum, a zoo and then mugged. You've already mentioned what occurred this time."

"Oh." Her smile was embarrassed. "I see. You...think my clothing is cursed?"

"In short, yes. I'll share my shirt. I'll turn my back and you can slip out of the dress and into the shirt. We'll leave the dress in the sand. Keep wearing it and who knows what will happen? We could be attacked by sandpeople, trampled by wild banthas, caught in a sand storm." The thought of her wearing his shirt and little else added more sweat to his brow. Obi-Wan pasted the most casual, benign, harmless expression he could muster on his face.

Her slow sideways glance indicated she still thought he was trying to charm her clothes off of her for naughty purposes. "I can't run around with bare legs," Dormé remarked, hands flipping the panels so that her legs were briefly exposed.

"It won't be much different than what you're wearing now." Not that he was complaining about her legs. They were nice legs, very shapely.

Dormé stared at him, then smiled again and laughed, shaking her head side to side. "I'll leave the dress on, thank you. If something else dire happens, I'll consider the curse idea a bit more valid."

More walking in silence. The sunlight was merciless. Obi-Wan was used to sweating up a storm, but this was ridiculous. He felt as though he'd been swimming, his clothes fast becoming drenched. Hopefully, someone -- not Palamon -- would come along soon, though he didn't have any hopes in that direction. He hadn't passed any traffic whatsoever on his way out here.

"Your bag was in my speeder," he told her. She should know what had happened to her things. Yet another matter they'd have to take care of.

"The big guy who took me said you ran off with it, though I wonder if he had someone watching you or if he was trying to discourage me. I need to go back to the room anyway. I hadn't packed the rest of my things."

"The rest? I saw nothing more out that the nightgown and robe." Both of which had been yards and yards of fabric. Many more than her dress.

Her gaze shifted in the same manner he'd seen when questioning criminals and they didn't want to give an honest answer. "I had...stashed a few things in the room for safety, in case someone broke in and stole my bag."

"Oh." He cocked his head, listening. It sounded like there could be a vehicle heading their way. Not from the direction of the house they'd left. From the spaceport. Miracle of miracles "You do realize someone may be waiting for us there? One of your abductor's associates?"

She frowned, but didn't reply, and when the speeder did appear, it was being driven by a teenage boy who readily agreed to give them a ride into the port in exchange for not telling his old man he'd borrowed the speeder. The boy spent more time watching Dormé's cleavage than looking where he was going and it was with much difficulty that Obi-Wan refrained from using the Force to help with the driving. He was grateful when they were safely out of the speeder and on their way to Dormé's room.

* * *

Val's vocabulary was getting quite a workout today. Palamon had decided that Val needed the proper incentive to keep from just lifting off and leaving the pictures stolen. With good reason, if Val could bear to admit it. He'd planned to let Dormé and her accomplice go free. The port authorities had other ideas, thanks to old Palamon. They'd painted Val a really good picture of what would happen if he didn't cooperate. 

He climbed the stairs to Dormé's room, muttering all the while. When this matter was taken care of, he was never coming back to Tatooine. Forget it. It was too much trouble. Mom would just have to come visit him for a change. Once he was off this rock, he was _never_ coming back. He searched Dormé's room, finding the credits she'd stashed and a few other items, but leaving them all where she'd put them. Then, he settled down to wait. She should be back any time, he figured.

* * *

Obi-Wan was right. There _was_ someone waiting in her room, just not the threat he believed. 

Val was lounging in the chair by the window she'd been abducted from, one foot propped on the bed. He had a bottle in one hand and a blaster in the other. The blaster was pointed directly at them. "Babe," he acknowledged her with a nod, then gave a nod in Obi-Wan's direction. "Babe's accomplice. What's say you both step on in, shut that door there, and we three have a nice, friendly little chat?"

Dormé stepped into the room. Val's features were set in a stony expression she well remembered. This wasn't a social call. It was a job.

Obi-Wan followed her, carefully setting his cloak and the cloth wrapped pictures on the bed. She glanced at him, appraised him as she knew Val was doing and wondered what had happened to his lightsaber. Hadn't it been on his belt? It wasn't there now and he looked perfectly at ease, as though this chat was going to be just what Val had said: nice and friendly.

Val sighed. "You've put me in an awkward place, Dormé, and it's not a place I particularly like." As he spoke, he watched Obi-Wan with interest. "Step away from the cloak, if you please. Men with cloaks very often have something to hide."

"Do I make you nervous," Obi-Wan asked, unmoving.

"Take a few steps toward that dark haired beauty on your left and I'd feel a tad better about this meeting."

With exaggerated care and a widening taunting smirk, Obi-Wan took a step towards her. "Is that better?"

"Beautiful. Dormé babe, come on over here and join me in a drink." Val took a long pull from the bottle.

"Looks to me like you've already had enough." Closer, it was obvious he'd been nipping at the bottle while he'd waited. His steady gaze was merely because he was having a little trouble focusing. He must have been waiting awhile, she thought, because Val doesn't get soused easily.

"Don't you worry on my sobriety. I could still shoot your man there in the head without looking."

Dormé pulled a second chair towards him. Consciously, she decided to work her wiles a bit. Val was a sucker for a female form -- any female form -- and he'd looked her over more than a few times with appreciation. Perhaps she could distract him. She crossed her legs so that one leg was exposed halfway up her thigh and leaned towards him a little. "Val--"

"She worry on you," he asked Obi-Wan with a frown, barely giving her a look. "She's like some kind of mama animal half the time, dispensing comfort and bandages and words of caution. She mothered my crew and they loved it."

"Did she?"

"Let me handle this," she said to him, almost able to feel the pure testosterone rising in the air. Obi-Wan's displeasure was obvious. His lips were tight, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. "Please."

Obi-Wan's reply was the lift of a brow, then a fierce frown. What, she wondered, was he so unhappy about?

Val held out the bottle, gaze slipping down to touch upon her chest. it lingered for a couple seconds before moving back up. "A little drink and then we'll get to discussing the particulars of my visit."

Taking the bottle, Dormé drank a big gulp and handed it back. "Drink taken. Get on to explaining." The liquor settled with a warmth into her empty stomach.

Val chuckled, rested the blaster in his lap and sighed once more. "Why didn't you tell me about this con, babe? Heck, I wouldn't have asked for much of a cut of the profits. Seeing old uncle Palamon with his pants in a twist over dirty pics just about had me dyin' of laughter. But then he told me to take care of it. Told, not asked. I'd just about decided to let you go and claim you were untraceable."

"What changed," she asked, watching resignation slip across his features.

"The old boy squeezed me, got the port authorities involved. There's a deal going on that if I bring you and the goods in, all charges of misdeeds on part of me and my crew will be dismissed."

"And you believed that," Obi-Wan said, derision in his voice. He gave a short bark of laughter.

Val shook his head. "Not a word. My uncle doesn't really want to attract Hutt or Imperial attention, but he's not averse to directing their scrutiny my way if he thinks it'll help him somehow. He could make this region unpleasant for me in the future, family by blood or not."

"I see." The warmth of the liquor was spreading out through her body.

"You're a smart gal, babe. I thought you would. Say, what's your man's name? I'd like to know the name of the man I might have to kill here soon."

"You can try," Obi-Wan said. "You won't succeed."

"I hit what I mean to."

"Better than you have tried."

"That's what they all say."

"I say what I mean. _Much_ better than you have tried."

"Prove it, old boy."

As though Val wasn't about Obi-Wan's age himself. Dormé swung her foot in slow circles.

"Old boy? I could whip your ass from here to Coruscant without breaking a sweat."

"I'm betting you're all talk, no action."

"Shall we do this here or outside?"

Dormé nipped a drink from the bottle and rolled her eyes. Boys would be boys, yes? She knew this ritual could go on for hours if she didn't step in. She'd bet that right now they were both all talk, since neither one looked inclined to actually move a muscle. Val remained lounging in the chair and Obi-Wan was still standing in the middle of the room. "Will you two just introduce yourselves and fight later?"

"Ben Kenobi," Obi-Wan said a nod.

Ben? Where did he get that name? It actually wasn't too bad with Kenobi.

"Val Kallin," Val returned.

"Isn't Val a woman's name?" Though a pleasant enough query, Dormé detected a fraction of antagonism in Obi-Wan's voice.

"It's short for Valiant. My mother has overdosed on romance fiction most of her life. My little sister is named Perseverance. My brothers are named Honor, Courage, Wisdom, Mercy and Big. Some sort of virtues or something. If there's a better nickname for Valiant, then enlighten me, because my brothers and I searched through them all and Val made the most sense."

"Knightly virtues it sounds like. Valiant, honor, courage, mercy, wisdom... Big? That's not one of them that I'm aware of."

Val shrugged. "I don't know. Dad says she was real drugged up when Big was born and that was all she'd say, so he figured it was her choice for a name and gave the okay. Big was the last of us. Mom got herself taken care of after that and to this day, she laughs hysterically whenever anyone asks her what it's like giving birth."

Dormé shook her head at the conversation and crossed her legs. "Could we get back to the subject? I don't plan on rotting in a Hutt dungeon or Imperial cell for the rest of my life." However long or short that might be, she added silently. If the empire caught her, she was certain it'd be short.

"Neither do I, babe," Val assured her. "So you see, we've got a situation. It's either me or you and your man Ben here, unless you've got another option spinning about that pretty little head of yours."

She thought a moment. Was there anything about their problem that could be used to their advantage? Would the truth help or hinder? She turned her gaze to Obi-Wan in a mute appeal for help. Maybe he could come up with something.

* * *

Obi-Wan didn't like the way this man looked at Dormé, nor did he care for the intimate tone this Val person used when speaking to her. He didn't like the man and it had nothing to do with what he saw and heard. It was instinct. Sheer, competitive instinct like he hadn't felt in years. Besides, Obi-Wan wanted to share that tone with Dormé and those sort of familiar looks. 

He gave his head a shake, admonishing himself to keep his mind on the problem and not on the rivalry rising between him and Val. The problem, Kenobi. Think only of the problem and let the rest of it work itself out later.

But it was very hard to do that when Dormé kept leaning over in that low-cut dress and Val kept taking an eyeful. He frowned. What was Dormé doing, or _thinking_ she was doing? Didn't she know the kind of ideas a man could get when a woman behaved like that?

She looked up at him.

"No plan, babe," Val asked.

"Did your uncle tell you what happened?" Obi-Wan walked to them and sat on the bedside. Had Val even been told the truth? Could it change things?

"Yeah. He said Dormé stole his dirty pics."

"There's a bit more to that story...Val."

"Do tell...Ben." Val held out the bottle. "Have a drink to wet your whistle."

"Don't mind if I do." He took just as big a gulp as Val had been taking. "You see, Dormé and I had plans for today--"

"I'll bet," Val interjected.

Dormé rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop it. Don't think you're being clever, because you're not. They weren't the sort of plans you're thinking."

"But your uncle decided to kidnap her instead. I followed to rescue her." That summed it up nicely.

"Uh-huh. And steal the pictures. I get it. It was a good con."

"We didn't steal them," Dormé said. Her voice went cold and flat.

"Course you did, Babe. It was a good con too. I wish I'd thought of it."

Dormé stood, stomping one foot on the floor. "No! It wasn't a con, you drunken idiot! That man had me drugged and carried from this room, then taken to his home out in the middle of nowhere. When I resisted his proposition, he had me put in this room with all these..._pictures_."

Obi-Wan watched her working herself into a state the longer she talked and wasn't quite quick enough to keep her from moving his cloak from the cloth holding the pictures and dragging them over. She opened the knotted ends and spread the pictures out.

"_These_ pictures. How did they get here? Why? They shouldn't... I couldn't believe that they were... They were taken by two people who loved each other very much. They shouldn't be displayed for that...that...disgusting bantha spawn to leer at." Grabbing up two of them, she clasped them to her breast almost protectively.

He turned to gauge Val's reaction. There had to be some way to salvage the situation to the benefit of all.

* * *

Dormé was awfully insistent that it wasn't a con and knowing Uncle Palamon's ways, Val wasn't surprised to hear she'd been kidnapped, though he did find it a mite hard to believe that she hadn't intended to steal the pictures to begin with. However, there was something about her voice and expression... She was too upset. 

He stared at her thoughtfully, taking in her wide eyes, trembling mouth and the way she clasped two of the pictures to her heaving bosom. He blinked, understanding dawning beneath the liquor fog in his mind. He could kick himself. It was _so_ obvious. "Oh babe." He cast a glance towards the rest of the pictures. They were pictures of Dormé and her husband. No _wonder_ she was so protective of them. The memories that must be coming back to her! He could imagine how painful it had been for her to see her pictures on Palamon's walls. "You must miss him fierce."

"Of course I...what?" She dropped back into her chair, eyes going even wider. "I..."

Ben got up from the bed and went to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "So you understand why she was upset to find them on a stranger's walls -- a stranger who'd abducted her for nefarious carnal purposes. Private pictures, meant to remain private, displayed there for all to see."

All well and good and something Val understood. Intimate matters between a man and his wife should remain so, except... He scratched his temple. One thing didn't really add up. "Course I understand, but now let me ask you...if these pics are so private, then how did that camera they were from end up in a junk heap on Coruscant with the memory card intact? Seems to me those pics would be erased or the card removed and kept in a safe location." His attention on Ben, he heard Dormé draw in a sharp choking breath. When he looked at her, she'd hunched over, face covered and back shaking.

"Lost in the move," she managed in a strangled gasp.

"Oh." He understood that too. Some moving companies had the worst employees, rifling through clients belongings and stealing from them. _He_ would have removed the memory card and just taken the camera, but some people had no respect for other's belongings.

"They are rightfully hers," Ben said with a slow smile.

Val had the idea that some kind of fast one was being pulled here, yet couldn't figure out what it could be. "That won't fly here. Just about everything on Tatooine has been stolen by someone at one time or another and likely two or three times before reaching its current location. Stolen means nothing."

"Yes." Ben's hand touched Dormé's hair. "Why not simply buy the pictures and throw in some professional pictures to sweeten the deal?"

Val laughed, then stopped. "You're serious."

"Of course I'm serious," Ben replied, hand lowering to sweep Dormé's back in long, gentle strokes. Comforting, like an old...friend.

Yeah, these two were more than just friends, he decided. That touch was too friendly. They had something going on between them. Val waited for an explanation of Ben's words.

"Everything has a price. Surely these pictures have one." Ben's tone was reasonable and calm.

"Probably, but they won't be cheap. No," Val shook his head, as an idea leapt into his mind. It was genius! "I got a better idea. We'll nix buying them because I really don't want to contribute to Unc.'s pocketbook." He waved a hand. "Here's what we'll do instead. You listening Dormé?"

She nodded, head still down and back still shaking.

"We'll replace the pictures," he grinned "with exact duplicates."

There was silence for a long moment, then Dormé began sobbing harder and Val thought he must be hearing things, because it sounded a lot like laughter. He ignored her and returned his attention to Ben, who was watching him in return with an expression that indicated he hadn't thought Val could come up with such a genius plan.

Val grinned wider, also ignoring how the room had begun to spin in slow, lazy circles. "So, Ben, you obviously had a gal in mind. Who ya thinking?"

"I know a pretty dark haired young woman who might be interested in modeling for a few photos. She's mentioned that extra funds are always welcome. I believe she's a few streets over from here at Madame Leelee's."

"Leelee's," he repeated. "Who do _you_ know at Leelee's?"

Dormé gave a noisy gulp and was silent. Was she holding her breath?

"Her name is Resa."

Val was instantly on guard, but forced himself to relax. Resa was a grown woman and she could deal with whomever she chose. She had good taste, since she'd often chosen to spend hours with him, so he supposed this Ben guy couldn't be all that bad. "Oh Resa. Yeah, she's a fun gal."

"Yes."

That little word brought his hackles rising. Not the word itself, but the way it was said. With familiarity. He gritted his teeth. "I'll go see if we can get an appointment. She might be all booked up though. I'll be back in a bit."

Val lurched to his feet, grabbed his bottle, and went in search of Madame Leelee's.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: Third Time's A Charm

**Author**: kasey8473

**Summary**: Sequel to 'Tea For Two'. Four years after the rise of the Empire, Obi-Wan and Dormé meet again.

**Chapter**: Six

**Rating**: M for humor

**Disclaimer**: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended.

* * *

Val was an idiot. Obi-Wan couldn't believe he'd taken a good plan and twisted it about like that. They could just buy the pictures, add a few more and be done with it, but no, they had to create exact replicas. Dormé had to be loving this. More people were going to be seeing the pictures thanks to Val. If she'd thrown such an emotional tantrum over Palamon seeing them, then what was the next explosion going to be like? 

Obi-Wan jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the now closed door. "How did you meet that guy in the first place?"

"Resa," she asked, ignoring his question as she stood and rewrapped the pictures.

He moved towards her a few steps. Hmm, he didn't like that look in Dormé's eyes...and conversely, he _did_ like it. Curiosity mixed with a heaping dose of jealousy. That _was_ jealousy, wasn't it? "She's a friend."

"A friend." She straightened and crossed her arms. "Uh-huh."

"Her speeder broke down and I gave her a ride." Why was he telling her this?

"A...ride?" One brow raised.

"Yes." He tilted his head, watched the cynicism slip across her gaze. "We have drinks sometimes when I come here and we spend an evening talking."

'Talking," she repeated.

"Yes. Is there an echo in here?"

"No, no, no echo."

"Why Dormé, you're not...jealous?" He crossed his own arms.

She turned half away so that he was facing her profile. "Of course not. I've no reason to be jealous of anyone. It's not like we're together. After all, we just re-met yesterday." Her frown was sudden and she turned her back on him completely. "I'm not jealous. It's a ridiculous idea. I simply wanted to know how you knew her. That's all."

Slowly, and with a warmth sparking in his chest, Obi-Wan let a grin tug his lips. If Dormé had looked back, he supposed she might have tagged it as 'delighted'. He dragged on his robe and straightened it. Yes, that looked quite a lot like jealousy. Strangely, that pleased him.

* * *

Resa? Dormé's ears perked a bit at the feminine name. Who was she and how did Obi-Wan know her? What, for that matter, was Madame Leelee's? It sounded like the name of a brothel. Had Obi-Wan been going to brothels? 

She didn't pay any amount of attention to Val's plan, too busy wondering on that question. Obi-Wan in a brothel. Well, he _was_ a man and men _did_ have needs... Blast it, she thought. Women have needs too. So how did he know that woman? Was there something between them? Two questions she needed an answer to.

Minutes later, she stood at the window wondering if she was jealous like he'd asked. Maybe. She certainly didn't want to think of him having drinks with another woman or giving her rides. Those thoughts occupied her mind, turning over and over until she decided it simply wasn't fair. Fate put him in _her_ life. It wasn't fair that he was having drinks and rides with another woman.

Dormé put a hand on her stomach. Man, she was really feeling light headed. She never should have had those drinks on an empty stomach. It occurred to her that the liquor was having quite the effect. She could almost call herself snockered. Turning back with the idea of suggesting to Obi-Wan that they have some food delivered, she found him watching her with an expression that puzzled her. It held warmth and a bit of humor and...pleasure. Was he actually enjoying their day? Surely it wasn't possible. "Not what you were planning for our day, is it?"

She imagined he'd had things very different in his mind. Pick her up, take her home, show her around. Relaxed, not this horrible day of misunderstandings and heart-to-hearts. If only their day had gone right instead of being messed up like this.

"It never is what I planned," he replied, stepping to her. His hand raised, touched her tangled hair and tipped her chin up. "I _am_ enjoying myself, Dormé. Do you know how long it has been since I've had excitement like this?"

His fingers swept along her jaw in a soft caress. She shook her head. His eyes were so beautiful...

"Too long. I've started to feel--"

Val burst through the door, carrying a box. He dropped it on the bed with exaggerated moans and groans and Dormé smelled the most delicious scents. Take-out. How sweet. Val brought food. "Not interrupting anything, right," he asked as he straightened, giving an impudent grin that indicated he hoped he _had_ interrupted something.

"Blast it," Obi-Wan murmured. When she looked back up at him, he shook his head. "I thought you were going to LeeLee's," he demanded, stepping back and looking as though he wanted to bash Val's head in.

"Yeah, I was. I stopped to buy another bottle and thought it might be best if we all went together. So, I slipped in to my favorite place and while they were boxing up the food, I bought babe something."

Sure enough, Val had a separate box in the larger box. Cautiously, Dormé opened it. Sometimes Val's ideas of gifts were as strange as his family's. But no. Inside was a change of clothes. "Oh Val, thank you!" Dormé hugged him, planting a kiss on his cheek. "I need to change. Out, both of you." When she was alone, she put on the clothes. The top was as tight as her dress top had been, but at least the pants fit okay. She'd have to stop and buy some boots and then, they could go.

* * *

Giving Val the evil eye did nothing except make him grin wider. Obi-Wan knew this, because he'd tried. Clothes and food. He should have thought of that. Well, he consoled himself, at least I'm not drunk. And, _I_ have a lightsaber. 

Briefly, he considered the fact that such thoughts were childish and immature and he was a mature man. But then, Val made a show of mumbling something about Dormé's kisses that wasn't quite loud enough to hear and he began to feel stirrings of... What was that? It wasn't anger, or sadness or anything like it. No, it was jealousy. _He_ was jealous of _Val_.

Absurd, Obi-Wan thought. I can't be jealous of him. I have no reason to be jealous of him. He's an idiot. "How exactly do you know Dormé, Val?"

"Took her aboard my ship a little over a year ago and we... You mean she didn't tell you?" Indicating that he was surprised by that. Val made a noncommittal noise that grated on Obi-Wan's nerves. "Ahh, well I'd better not say anything, being a gentleman and all."

He gritted his teeth. "Of course. Gentleman. Do you always buy her clothes?"

"Sometimes." Val laughed. "Course, I'd rather dispense with the clothes, if you know what I mean."

Obi-Wan wondered how Dormé could have gotten herself mixed up with this idiot. It was going to be a long evening, he already knew it.

* * *

Val couldn't resist needling the man. He just looked like the uptight sort who couldn't take a joke. So he joked with him, insinuating that he and Dormé had a thing going and that he was interested in keeping it going. Ben didn't crack anything more than that polite smile once. A challenge and one Val was rising to. Ben was going to react if he had anything to say about it. 

He didn't mention how he'd spent weeks looking through files of women named Dormé until he'd found the right one. Nor did he tell Ben that he'd been impressed with her drive to survive. Val also didn't mention that he and Dormé had never had a relationship aside from professional. Why mention any of that when it was fun to see how long Ben could grit his teeth at a time? And that pleasant expression...Could it last a full hour?

The door opened. "Are you two getting along okay," Dormé asked, setting out the food containers. She sounded as though she doubted that they were being civil to each other.

"Wonderfully," he remarked.

"Not a problem," Ben said with a smile.

He saw Dormé slant a suspicious stare their direction and clapped Ben hard on the back. Somehow, Val lost his balance and keeled over onto the floor.

"Careful, there, Val. The floor is a bit slick. I should have warned you. I'm sorry, I noticed that slick spot earlier." Obi-Wan strolled to the bed and began to pick through the containers.

Val tried to figure out if the man had tripped him or shoved him, finally deciding that was impossible. Ben hadn't been that close to him. "Yeah, guess so."

He managed to eat a little bit, but as the food interfered with the alcohol in his system, taking away a hard-earned buzz -- he only took a few bites, taking the chance to study Ben and Dormé. Yup, those two were involved. Not just any sort of involved either, but the sort of involved that had kept his parents hot and heavy and absolutely sickening for all of their married lives together. There was a reason he had so many siblings.

Ben would look at Dormé, gaze dipping to her cleavage. Val had bought the shirt a size too small just to keep her cleavage on view. Ben would half-smile, then look away and take a bite of food. Dormé would do a similar ritual. Val suspected that if he wasn't there, those two would be on each other like... He frowned. What sort of comparison could be made? Like fat on a Hutt? Did that work?

Ben wiped his mouth. "Do you see something that interests you, Val?"

Shoving aside his food, he inclined his head towards Dormé to irk Ben. "Sure do. Mighty interesting, if you catch my drift."

Dormé looked up. "Fight later. We have a problem to take care of."

Val nodded. "Sure thing, babe. Whatever your little heart desires."

* * *

_Whatever your little heart desires?_

Was Val that drunk? He'd never said that to her, not even when he'd been trying to get into her pants.

He was up to something. No, they were both up to something and Dormé suspected she wasn't going to like either thing. Val was being agreeable and Obi-Wan was being icily polite. Each word from their mouths felt weighted with hidden meaning. Dormé busied herself cleaning up the food. They were bound to fight, weren't they?

Men. She was never going to understand them.

Thankfully, they were civil on the way to LeeLee's. The establishment was large and looked the same as all the other buildings on Tatooine. It was made from the same materials, the only thing distinguishing it from other buildings was the discreet sign above the door. 'Madame Leelee's' Simple.

Obi-Wan and Val both sighed.

Inside, they walked into what Dormé thought must be the main room. Was this where the men picked the woman of choice? It was crowded. Dormé was glad she'd changed. Her dress would have blended right in with those of the scantily clad women slinking about, mingling with patrons. She might have been mistaken for one of them. How embarrassing that would have been! She imagined Val and Obi-Wan's amusement at that and concentrated on searching the crowd, though she hadn't the faintest idea of what this Resa person looked like.

Wow, she thought, snagging a drink from a tray as a droid passed by. I didn't know a place like this was so popular with both sexes. Men, yeah, but women? Dormé was surprised to see that Madame LeeLee's seemed respectable after all. It didn't even _look_ like a brothel. Although, she thought with a wry twisting of her lips, she'd hardly know what the inside of a brothel looked like.

"There she is," Obi-Wan murmured to Val, who nodded and raised a hand.

"Hey Resa!"

"Val!" A tall, pretty young woman detached herself from a group and came to them, enfolding Val in a warm hug.

"And Ben!" A hug to him as well. "Wow, do you know each other?" Without waiting for a reply, she turned to Dormé, her smile friendly. "Hi, I'm Resa. Welcome to LeeLee's."

"I'm Dormé." She set her drink down on the nearest flat surface. Val snatched it up and drained the glass.

"That's a pretty name," Resa gushed, linking her arm through Dormé's and drawing her towards the center of the room. "Did you bring a résumé?"

Huh? They needed a résumé in this line of work? Must be an upscale place. "Um...no. I didn't realize I'd need one." She wasn't planning on applying, though it did look like the women made quite a bit of money if they could afford the sort of dresses Dormé kept noticing. Something to think about.

"Oh. Well what about a portfolio or even just a head and body shot?"

"No." Portfolio? Head and body shots? What was going on here? Was this place _that_ exclusive? And on Tatooine even. Something wasn't adding up and Dormé couldn't quite get it to.

"Oh." Resa seemed puzzled, tilting her head and pausing in her steps. "Aren't you here for the open call?"

"Open call?"

"Well, yes, the open call. You know, a chance at good representation. LeeLee is the absolute best on three planets."

Dormé glanced at Val and Obi-Wan. They were strangely amused by her confusion, both struggling to keep straight faces. Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled his amusement.

"Between you and me," Resa said, "I think you're a shoo in. You've got the sort of regal bearing and confidence that Leelee is looking for."

"I...see." Though she really didn't. "Actually--"

"May we speak with you privately, Resa," Obi-Wan interjected.

"Of course. I always have time for you and Val. But we can't be too long. I'm supposed to be mingling. I _am_ being paid to be out here, you know. I do have contacts to make."

Contacts? Was that how they referred to their clients here?

They went into a private room down one corridor to the left, Dormé giving the room they left a glance and wondering if anyone thought they were all leaving together for the obvious reasons one would in a brothel. She hoped not, but she couldn't very well stop people from thinking what they would, now could she? The room they went into was an office. Or was just made to look like an office? Did they do really heavy fantasy role-play sort of things here, like the 'Senator and her aide'? Or, she cast a glance at Obi-Wan, the 'Jedi and the handmaiden'?

Now that could actually be fun. She pictured them alone, shoving the items off the desk before --

"You're getting' all red in the face, babe," Val said, shutting the office door behind them and sipping innocently at the drink he'd managed to snatch before they'd left the main room. "You okay?"

"Perfectly," Dormé replied, pressing one hand to her cheeks. "It's sunburn."

"Wasn't there a minute ago." Val peered at her. "You're breathin' kind of heavy too."

Obi-Wan's eyes still twinkled, only more so now, as though he knew what she was thinking about. He cleared his throat, glance falling to the desk.

"Would you like a cool cloth, Dormé? It'd be no trouble at all." Resa went to a door on the wall opposite the corridor. "The refresher is right through here." The door opened, revealing a nicely appointed room nearly as big as the refreshers Padmé's apartment had boasted.

It would be right there, wouldn't it? Close. Nice and handy for clean-up. Dormé smothered a snort of laughter that she suspected would come out as mildly hysterical if she did indeed loose it.

"I know what it's like having sunburn," Resa confided. "I can't go out much here during the day, or if I do, I have to be completely swathed in fabric. I end up looking like a sand person, completely hidden under layers of cloth, but I have to. For my job, you know." She laughed. "Of _course_ you know! Why am I telling you this? Do you just sometimes hate all the beauty rituals we have to go through? It's like never ending."

"Resa." Obi-Wan said, capturing her attention. "Are you still interested in jobs on the side?"

The young woman nodded. "Yeah, though I need to run them by LeeLee these days. She's okay with them, but insists I use her when negotiating fees and such. It's so much easier that way, believe me. She can usually get me a better deal than I could on my own."

Dormé couldn't help the giggle that left her. Thankfully, it wasn't at all hysterical. "A better deal."

"Oh, she's great! She goes in and the offers like double. You will absolutely not believe how good she is with contractual obligations. Why, I'm doing so well here, that I only really work a day or two a week now."

"That _is_ good." This place really must be upscale. Either that or Resa was really good at what she did. Dragging her gaze down her and back up, Dormé decided it was probably a bit of both. "A day or two a week."

"You'll love it. And the apartments are totally awesome, too. I've worked on bigger planets and planets really close to Coruscant and LeeLee's is the best. Hands down."

"You know," Dormé perched on the edge of the desk, " it's rare to find a woman who enjoys her work."

"Hey Ben." Val sidled over to Obi-Wan and nudged him hard in the ribs with an elbow. "Reckon we oughtta tell her before much more gets said?"

"Tell who what?" Resa sat beside Dormé, stretching out a hand and fingering the hem of her shirt. "I looked at this exact same shirt the other day. Talk about coincidence!"

Obi-Wan stroked his beard, his hand momentarily covering up his smile. "Yes Val, I suppose we should. Shall I do the introductions or would you care for the honor?"

"Let me. Babe, allow me to introduce the finest filly in Leelee's stable, winner of the Miss Tatooine beauty contest two years ago and current cover girl for such companies as Royal Cosmetics and --"

"Val!" Resa stood, waving her arms. "Stop! I don't have any big contracts right now. I'm done with Royal Cosmetics. They have a new cover girl this year."

Dormé stared at her, then at Val and Obi-Wan. She blinked, going back over the conversation so far. "You're a model?" She now understood the amusement of the two men. They knew she'd assumed LeeLee's was a brothel and let her believe it.

Just wait until later, she thought. You two...

"Of course, silly. What did you think I was, a _prostitute_?" Resa giggled. "You are so funny Dormé. I like you."

"Thanks," she said, shooting a glance Obi-Wan and Val's way that fully expressed her displeasure with them both. Neither looked too repentant.

Resa scooted things on the desk and sat, crossing her legs and swinging one foot in circles. "What is it you need?"

"Duplicates of pictures," Val explained. He was beginning to slur his words again. "We got some pictures we need to have exact duplicates made of and we'd like you to be our model."

"Exact duplicates?" Her brows raised. "Why?"

"It's a long, long story," he told her, with a overly long pointed stare in Dormé's direction. "Tragic. So tragic. And long. Let me tell it. Love...lost and those pictures are the only memories she has, so of course we _had_ to lift them. We couldn't leave them on the walls for all to see, now could we? _Passionate_ love, Resa, you should _see_ those pictures. They are _hot_. I mean smokin' hot, as in whoo! giving me ideas..." Val blinked, seemed to remember Dormé was still there and nodded. "We had to lift them, see?"

"Of course." Resa actually looked like she was following Val's thought processes. "If they were her only memories, it was just right."

"Yup. And they don't belong to us now. Her. Belong to her. Stolen from her home and we're getting them back, but we need to leave duplicates so the old bantha's ass doesn't object to them being stolen, because he won't know they're still stolen once we sneak in and replace the pictures we took with the exact duplicates we're planning on taking and sneaking in to replace the..._you_ know. Follow me?"

"Perfectly. I'm sure we can arrange that. LeeLee won't have a problem with pictures in the name of justice. I mean, she's all for righteous anger and I'm sure she'll help out some too. Let me go talk to her." Resa slipped away.

Val dropped into a chair, gave Dormé and Obi-Wan a big grin, and passed out.

"Well, at least someone followed him perfectly," Obi-Wan remarked, folding his arms.

"Val rambles a little when he's had a few drinks."

"A little?" He came to her, hands grasping her arms, sliding up and down them. "Are you okay with this? There will be more people seeing those pictures, Dormé."

She sighed. "I know. But they're professionals, right? They'll be discreet and...professional."

"Of course they will." He enfolded her in a hug and Dormé went willingly, pressed against him. They were still hugging when Resa returned.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: Third Time's A Charm

**Author**: kasey8473

**Summary**: Sequel to 'Tea For Two'. Four years after the rise of the Empire, Obi-Wan and Dormé meet again.

**Chapter**: Seven

**Rating**: M for humor

**Disclaimer**: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended.

* * *

There were more people present than Dormé had anticipated. There was the photographer and his assistant, make-up artists, hairdressers, various technicians, models and various others going in and out of the room. Her hopes of having a nice quiet photo shoot were dwindling by the second. She stood with Obi-Wan, watching as the background for the pictures was carefully reproduced. Val was sitting in a chair behind them with his legs stretched out just enough that he could kick Obi-Wan's boots whenever he shifted in the chair. Val kept saying it was an accident, but Dormé knew otherwise. He was being childish and she was pleased that Obi-Wan was not rising to it. 

How quickly these people worked! She couldn't believe that only two hours ago, they'd discussed this with Resa. LeeLee had apparently thought this was a good cause...as long as Dormé paid the fees like any other client. She glanced up at Obi-Wan. He held the pictures in the crook of his arm. They were nearly ready to begin, or so they'd been informed.

Except for one little detail.

"Dormé!" Resa leaned through a doorway across the room.

For nearly half an hour, Dormé had been catching glimpses of the most beautiful male models LeeLee had to offer, all in various states of undress. Each glance she'd sent that way had made her cheeks feel hotter and she was wondering if anyone would miss Val if she killed him and hid the body. It was his bright idea for Dormé to pick out the male model. How was she supposed to do that when she'd never seen Anakin Skywalker the way Padmé had? The only reference she had were the pictures and to be honest, they weren't the best quality.

"Dormé? Come on in here! The guys are all ready."

She sighed. Think of it as art, nothing more than art. Okay, alive, breathing and fully reactive art, but art all the same. "I'll be right there."

Obi-Wan leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Would you care for some assistance? I used to have to go with Anakin to clothes fittings so he wouldn't duck out of them. He always considered them a waste of his time when he could be out doing something else. We used to argue the necessity. He insisted they had his measurements, so why did they need him?"

"I'd be grateful for any help right now." She turned her head to him and cheek to cheek, they spoke. "I've only a faint idea what his build really was."

"You saw the pictures." His breath was warm, tickling. "You _did_ admit to looking at them."

Would her cheeks ever stop flushing? "Of course I looked. They were on the walls and there was nothing else in the room save the table and the cloth covering it. And then I thought I recognized..."

He laughed softly. "I'm teasing. Relax."

"I _am_ relaxed."

Drawing back a little, he nodded, amusement in his eyes. "If you insist. Let's go get this over with. Then you can sit for a bit and I'll take over answering their questions."

Resa had six men lined up and was stepping along behind them, giving encouraging words. All but one of the young men seemed nervous, shifting where they stood. The calm man -- Rix he'd been introduced as -- stared right at Dormé when she looked at him, hands resting on his hips, a slow smile curving his lips. He held her gaze long enough to make her uncomfortable, then did a more thorough visual perusal of her than she'd noticed in a long time, not counting Palamon. Even _Val_ had been more discreet than this man and Val was not particularly known for discretion at times. When he'd finished, he shrugged his brows and glanced behind him at Resa.

Dormé had the sudden idea that this punk thought he could compete with any man and win. His expression practically shouted, 'You want me, I know you do and if you're lucky, I'll let you have me'. Thoughtful, she smiled politely and exchanged a long look with Obi-Wan. His hand swept along her back. She had the first three models dismissed, then a fourth, leaving the supremely arrogant Rix and the less confident Cor remaining.

Val's voice carried in to them. "Yo, babe! Taking you long enough in there! It's not like you can sample the merchandise or anything. They're models. Pick one already."

Eight ways to kill Val slipped through her mind in a pleasing whirl. Within that mix was strangulation, knives and one particularly strange sort of poison that had to be rubbed into the skin and heated to kill.

A smile lingered on Rix's lips at Val's shout. He tilted his head back a fraction and squared his shoulders, as though waiting for a verbal affirmation that he was all 'that' and more.

Obi-Wan inclined his head to hers as she turned her head. They bumped together. "Sorry," Obi-Wan said, touching the spot on his head and leaning once more, taking care not to do it again. "I have a choice for you."

"I've got a good idea which of these two will work myself, _without_ advice." She saw his attention turn briefly to Rix and nodded. "Could it be anyone else?"

"No. With Resa already having picked out models with the right build, attitude is everything that's left and this Rix has attitude. Splendid choice to portray Anakin in the pictures, Dormé."

"Ooh, have you decided," Resa asked, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. Her enthusiasm was infectious and Dormé nodded. Resa wiggled.

"Yes, I think I've come to a decision."

"Tell, tell!" Resa threw her arms around the two men waiting.

Rix was almost too cocky for his own good and for a second, Dormé was tempted to pick Cor instead of Rix, but Rix was absolutely perfect. The height, features...arrogance... He was good and he knew it. "Rix," she and Obi-Wan said together.

Resa turned to Rix, hugging him with enthusiasm. Dormé noticed he took the opportunity to cop a feel. If pointed out, she knew he'd claim it an accident. His sort always did. By the look on Obi-Wan's face, she supposed he'd noticed that too. His brows v'ed down in a disapproving frown, but then he shook his head and gave her a nudge back towards the other room.

"Sit for awhile. You've had a long day."

"All right." Dormé went to sit beside Val and waited for the shoot to begin.

* * *

As surreptitiously as he could, without Dormé noticing, Obi-Wan gave Val a kick the next time he felt the tap of Val's boot against his. The resulting hiss of pain was satisfactory and there were no more taps after that. He followed Dormé into the other room, trying to quell the feeling. He knew he was behaving like a child, but in all fairness, Val started it. 

No, he told himself, it's time to behave. Quite acting like that. Grown men do not do childish things like that.

But grown men did all the time and he knew it. Just because he shouldn't be doing it didn't mean the urge to actually do it was any less. Human nature, yes? Besides, he hadn't felt this alive in a long time. Obi-Wan turned his attention to the models, immediately focusing on Rix. For a moment, he wondered if it was possible Anakin had blood relatives on Tatooine, for Rix reminded him so much of the teenager Anakin had been. Arrogant, cocky... It remained to be seen if Rix was a smart-ass too. Somehow, Obi-Wan didn't doubt it. He could just imagine a smart quip coming from the young man's mouth as he made an innocent expression.

Dormé, it seemed, didn't really need his help. She'd noticed Rix was perfect as well.

The photo shoot progressed well, he thought, with little in the way of further questions. Still, he felt better being on hand, keeping an eye on Rix, who was completely professional as far as he could tell. He and Resa looked good together and it was obvious they'd worked with each other before. The rest of the afternoon and evening was taken up with the shoot and except for a second where Dormé and Val were sitting a little too close together for his comfort, Obi-Wan found himself enjoying the process unfolding before him.

It was educational.

* * *

Dormé settled next to Val, leaning over close enough that they could talk properly. "So, Val, what's the deal with you and Resa? Are you --" 

"Friends," he said, cutting off the query. His thumb and forefinger stroked his jaw. On Obi-Wan, the gesture appeared thoughtful and was sexy as all get out, but on Val it was merely nervous.

Hmm. How interesting, she decided. Val was nervous by this line of questioning. Amused, she pressed on. "Friends. Oh, I see. How did you meet?"

"Well, uh..." He crossed one ankle over one knee and jiggled his foot. "You see, her ship broke down and I...uh...I gave her a ride." He coughed, shifting again.

Remembering Obi-Wan's story, she laughed. A ride. Uh-huh. Poor Resa. Did that happen to her a lot? Funny how ships and speeders were always breaking down right when a man came by. Quite a coincidence.

Val scowled. "Trash mind. Just a ride. Nothing...funny."

"Of course." If there was nothing going on, then why was he behaving as though there was?

"We got to talking and now we meet sometimes when I'm here. You know, have drinks, talk..." He shifted once more.

Dormé struggled to keep her amusement in check. Looking over at Obi-Wan, she found him watching them with a displeased frown. She grinned and wiggled her fingers at him. The change in his demeanor was instantaneous. The frown smoothed out and he returned her smile.

Val became unresponsive on the subject of Resa, choosing to stay behind and wait for her before joining them for a late meal and drinks. It took him forever to show up and when he did, there was a gleam in his eyes Dormé had long ago learned to recognize and dread. He'd done something she was going to absolutely hate, but it would do her no good to try and force it out of him. She'd have to wait for whatever it was to happen.

He arrived with Rix and Resa, stayed out of Obi-Wan's way and hightailed it back to his ship the second the meal was over. Val not staying for a last drink was suspicious in itself. What, she wondered, did he have in store for her and Obi-Wan? Thinking on that, Dormé smiled distractedly at Rix in response to some quip he'd made. He smiled back, obviously delighted as he settled into his seat.

If Dormé hadn't been distracted by Val's behavior, she might have wondered why Rix became the perfect gentleman as the late night went on.

* * *

Rix Xixerhas stretched the kinks from his muscles and threw on his clothes. He was glad the shoot was over. Kind of funny that the pretty little brunette wanted copies of pictures she already had, but who was he to ask questions? She'd chosen him, so he had no complaints. It was good pay and he'd had the time free anyway. Through the wall, he heard Resa chatting away with someone. Could she ever talk. The only drawback to working with her was that she rarely shut up if she didn't have to. Cute chick though. Nice rack. He liked that in a woman. 

With a last check of his still perfectly styled dark blond hair, he tossed the last of his things in a bag. Stepping into the main room, he found a familiar face waiting.

"My man," Rix greeted Val warmly just outside the dressing area, clapping him on the back with one hand. He hadn't seen Val in ages. Must be nearly a year now. "What are you up to these days? Still in the local business?"

Val looked over his shoulder and nodded. "Yeah, still dealing in goods. Hey listen, Rix, take a walk with me. You're gonna be interested in this, I tell you." Val seemed nervous, but Rix knew that was his normal manner when on Tatooine. Nothing strange about it.

Curious, Rix shouldered his bag and followed. What Val had to say _did_ interest him, a lot. He grinned, not quite believing. "You're kidding me, man, right?"

"Would I do that? Come on. It's me, Val Kallin." He pointed to himself with both hands. "Trust me."

"All right, all right. I trust you. I don't get tips like this every day. It's good to know, Val, thanks. I'll get on that then."

He spent every moment of the next hours figuring out the best plan of action. At last, it was time to make his move.

* * *

While Val was pleased with himself, he decided not to stick around and watch the fireworks explode. Being close by could be dangerous for his health in a couple hours. Still, he couldn't help but think of what a stroke of genius his plan was. Ben was going to be _so_ annoyed this time! 

It never occurred to him that he shouldn't annoy Dormé.

* * *

This evening ended on a high note, Dormé thought as she closed her door and headed for the refresher to get ready for bed. She'd borrowed a nightgown from one of Resa's friends and was happy to see that LeeLee's guest rooms were spacious and smelling of flowers. Obi-Wan had hugged her before going into his own room right down the hall across from her. It was nice to have him close and there were no windows in her room so she didn't fear being carried off again. 

Dormé sighed and left the refresher, pausing mid-stride and stumbling. What the..? Stretched out on her bed in a state of near undress was Rix. He had a come hither expression on his beautiful chiseled features.

"Well hello," he purred, cocking a brow at her and maneuvering into one of the poses from that afternoon.

I do not have a nearly naked male model on my bed, she told herself five times before blinking and shaking her head. He remained, still wearing that expression. "Rix?"

"That's my name, sweet thing. Why don't you slip off that sexy..." his gaze dragged down her, words slowing as he saw what she had on, "...completely enveloping number that shows nothing of your kick ass figure." He raised up on one elbow, brow furrowing. "Wow, I didn't know they even _made_ women's nightwear that covering."

She crossed her arms, wishing she'd borrowed a robe of some kind too. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you, you shy thing." He stood, sauntering to her. "Not one word. That's cool. Shy is cool, baby."

"Get out," she told him, stepping back and raising her hands to ward him off.

"You don't mean that."

"Am I not speaking clearly? Get out, as in leave." Dormé grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the door. "Go away."

"Playing hard to get. That's cool too. However you want it, sweet thing, I'm game. He said you might protest just to be protesting. Sort of a making yourself feel better about your needs thing."

"What? Oh, leave!" She opened the door, pushed him towards it and began picking his clothes up and tossing them at him. "Get out!"

Rix stepped back, catching and clutching his clothes, completely unconcerned with his state of near undress in full view of the hallway. "No kiss or anything? What'd I do?"

The door wouldn't shut with him still in the way. "You have to ask?"

"Uh..._yeah_. He told me you were hot to trot, wanting to dance the horizontal, a merry widow..."

"_Who_ said that?"

"Val of course. He said you were wild and up for a night of possibilities. He also said I resemble your dead husband."

More ways to kill Val went through her mind. "How do you know Val, Rix?"

"Oh, we're cousins."

Was that man related to everyone on this planet? Vaguely, she was aware of a door opening down the hall. "Get out!"

"But...passion flower...he said you were a sure thing. He promised me I'd have a night to remember." Rix was beginning to look displeased, though not half as displeased as Dormé was feeling.

Dormé rolled her eyes and flushed when she caught sight of Obi-Wan leaning against his own door frame watching them. He was stripped to his pants, chest bare... He crossed his arms. Dormé couldn't tell if he was angry or amused. "You'll remember it all right if you don't leave because you'll be missing a body part I'm guessing you consider essential."

Rix started to laugh, then apparently thought better of it, running one hand through his hair. "You're serious."

"Quite."

"But you smiled at me earlier. Several times."

"I smile at lots of men," she informed him tightly. "That doesn't mean I want to..._doink_ them all."

"Doink?"

Obi-Wan repeated the word just after Rix.

"I am not attracted to you Rix."

Disbelief settled in his eyes and eased quickly into puzzlement. "Why not?" He shrugged, dropping his clothes and posing once more. "What's wrong with me? I'm in the top five list of male models in this quadrant. Industry News Weekly rated me as both 'most desirable newcomer' and 'most likely to be fantasized about across the galaxy', but _you're_ not attracted?" He made a sweeping gesture up and down himself. "I have to ask Dormé, are you _looking_ at me? Because, sweet thing, I am...hot, if we're being honest, and I am fully willing to appreciate the experience of an older woman. I _welcome_ the experience."

"You're too young for me." Was that a snicker from Obi-Wan? Yup, one after another. Very unlike a true gentleman.

"Stamina, baby. How can that be bad?"

"I prefer a mature man."

"Right. I'm mature. I get the whole action-consequence line of thinking mature adults engage in. Action: we have a fun night in this here room. Consequence: you get to...what was that word you used again?...doink..._me_ and tell about. I brought a list of industry and entertainment mags for you to contact. Tell all. I don't mind. We can take some pictures if you want, like the ones we copied, just you and me. By the way, you are so blazin' in the originals."

"Blazing?"

"Oh yeah. Val told me. It's cool. Course, this modesty bit you've got going on now is sort of confusing me."

She could imagine Obi-Wan's comment on that.

"I'd have thought a woman who'd have pictures taken of her like that would be pretty comfortable with her sexuality." He was looking her up and down again in a way that made her wonder if Val's entire family was oversexed. "Unless we're like role playing here. Outraged maiden and persuasive suitor." He nodded, grin returning. "Is that it? Yeah? Uh-huh. I can do that. I can get into that, sweet thing. I can _be_ persuasive. Just tell Rix what you want and he'll deliver in full with a bonus plan, baby."

Dormé burst into laughter, the sheer silliness of the situation hitting her. "Bonus plan? No, no, I don't think so. You need to leave. I don't know what Val told you--"

"I told you what he told me."

"Yeah, well, he was wrong. Sorry. You're not my kind of guy, Rix." He wasn't Obi-Wan. Not only that, but Rix was a little slow on the uptake. Obi-Wan started towards them.

"Well, why not?" Bending, he retrieved his clothes and began to slip them on. "Why would Val say those things..." Rix looked at Obi-Wan, then Dormé. He must have seen something on her face, because he ducked his head. "Uh...Let's just forget I was here, okay? No troubles, Ben. A little misunderstanding. Backin' away, man. No fight here. She's all yours." As he walked off, Dormé heard him mutter, "See if I bail him out the next time he's stuck in a Hutt dungeon, that slimy, good for nothing son of a..."

Obi-Wan chuckled and rested his hands on either side of her door. "Entertaining were you?"

"Not funny." A stern glance did nothing to dispel his mirth.

"I find it _very_ funny. You are such the seductress, Dormé. You must write a book. Ten ways to drive men crazy. I had no idea." He struck a pose similar to one Rix had used. "Just tell me what you want and I'll deliver in full, with a bonus plan."

A giggle escaped her. "I'm going to kill Val and leave his body to rot in the desert."

Obi-Wan returned to a relaxed stance. "First thing tomorrow. After, of course, we pick up the new pictures and arrange the meeting with Palamon. Then, we'll deal with Valiant Kallin."

"It's a plan."

One hand stretched out, fingers grazing her cheek. "Sleep well. Try not to seduce any _more_ strange men tonight, hmm?" He returned to his room and closed the door.

Dormé went to bed and dreamed of seducing Obi-Wan.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title**: Third Time's A Charm

**Author**: kasey8473

**Summary**: Sequel to 'Tea For Two'. Four years after the rise of the Empire, Obi-Wan and Dormé meet again.

**Chapter**: Eight

**Rating**: M for humor

**Disclaimer**: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended.

**Notes**: RL derailed me last week or this would have been ready sooner.

* * *

The room was silent save for her own breaths, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Some of Val's acquaintances didn't breathe the way humans did and after that stunt last night, she wouldn't be surprised if he'd sent someone else into her room. 

She opened one eye. Upon seeing no surprises immediately evident, Dormé opened the other eye. She sighed, stretching. This bed was soft and comfortable. Too bad she had to get up and face the day. That meant dealing with Palamon and, ultimately, dealing with Val. She hadn't an idea at all how to pay him back for Rix. It needed to be something good. A deterrent to future ideas running about his head. Perhaps she'd think of something after a good hearty breakfast.

Her toilette didn't take long and soon she was dressed in more clothes borrowed from Resa's friend and stepping into the hall. She made a brief stop at Obi-Wan's door, but he didn't answer so she headed downstairs to find Resa.

The young woman was waiting. "Dormé hi, did you hear? Rix got picked up for a drunk and disorderly a few hours ago! It's so bizarre because he like never indulges that much. A drink or two, yeah, but really stinking drunk? Never. LeeLee was beyond mad." She linked her arm through Dormé's, practically dragging her down a hallway. "He was supposed to have a shoot today too and I guess his face is messed up some. LeeLee left to bail him out, so it's you and me for breakfast. Val said he'd be by once he sets up the appointment."

"Resa, have you seen..." at the last second, Dormé remembered the name Obi-Wan had used, "...Ben today?"

"Oh yeah, ages ago. He went out with LeeLee's assistant on some errand he claimed couldn't conceivably wait any longer. Said he'd be back later."

Dormé lingered over her plate and drink long after Resa had left for an appointment. No one joined her for nearly an hour, when Rix came through the door, dragged by a tall older woman who defined the word 'curvaceous' and whose purple colored hair could in no way be natural for any species. The woman shoved him into the chair across from Dormé with a stern order to stay put.

"Xixerhaus, you are more trouble than you're worth," the woman said as she stalked away.

Dormé eyed Rix. He returned the stare, slouched in the chair. His clothes were rumpled -- the same clothes she'd tossed back at him the previous night -- and he looked absolutely terrible, not at all like the young man of the photo shoot. He was unshaven, obviously hung over by the way he winced at every noise, had a black eye, and several scrapes and cuts adorned his handsome features.

"Don't say it," he murmured in a husky voice. "LeeLee already said it all."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

The eye not swollen and puffed turned to her plate, then quickly looked away. He gulped. "Yeah right."

Raising her brows, she crossed her legs and waited. Rix sighed in a dramatic fashion, then leaned over and put his head in his hands.

"I'm never drinking again and I mean it this time." Suddenly, he looked up. "Ben's not gonna hurt me for making a move on you last night, is he? Because Val said --"

"We covered what Val said already, Rix, and no, I don't believe you have anything to worry about." Obi-Wan had been more amused than anything. She waved a hand at his face. "What were you fighting about?"

Rix shrugged. "I dunno. I was having a few drinks, not just one because the women kept buying me drinks. And some of the men kept buying me drinks too, come to think of it. But anyway, I was just sitting there at the bar and some ugly guy came over and said he didn't like me. I told him 'sorry' and he hit me. So I hit him back. Then his buddy hit me and I hit him too and we knocked over some tables and broke some bottles and the next thing I knew LeeLee was waking me up and dragging me into the street, lecturing me."

She sighed. "Where's LeeLee now?"

"Trying to reschedule my shoot. I bet Cor gets the job now."

He sounded so dejected that Dormé decided to patch him up a bit while they waited for LeeLee to return. She went in search of a first aid kit or something.

* * *

Luck was with him today, which rather amazed Obi-Wan considering the previous day. He found the Jawas that had stolen his speeder, paid them an outrageous price for his own property and managed to talk them down on Dormé's belongings. By mid-afternoon, he was headed back to LeeLee's. Carrying Dormé's bag, he found her in the dining room. He paused in the doorway, watching her. She was tending to someone's injuries. 

"Oh, stop being so dramatic. It's a scratch."

Rix's voice answered her. "It's a crater, Dormé. It'll scar and I'll never work again. This cannot happen to me!"

"A scratch and it's not even deep enough to scar. Quit being such a baby. I got worse than that my first week in active duty." She pressed a cloth to Rix's cheekbone.

"Ouch. I can't have a scar. My status will plummet and no one will hire me. Haven't you been listening?"

My Rix looked young when he wasn't strutting about. Was I ever that young, Obi-Wan wondered. It seemed several lifetimes since he'd been Rix's age and maturity level. He crossed to them, setting Dormé's bag at her feet. "Hello. Found your luggage, Dormé." Rix was in a world of hurt by the look of those bruises and cuts. What in the heavens had happened?

"Thank you." She smiled up at him, then returned to her patient. "A little scar, if there happened to be one, _which_ there won't be, might add to your appeal. Consider that. It could lend an air of intrigue, of danger." When Rix stared at her blankly, Dormé sighed.

How long had this conversation been going on? He saw frustration in her gaze.

"Bad boy appeal, Rix. A lot of women like a bad boy."

After a moment, he snorted. "Well, duh."

Obi-Wan pulled up a chair. Their situation had so long ago moved into farce that he'd decided to just enjoy the ride no matter what was in store for them. Despite all of the annoyances, he hadn't had such a good time in ages. "Don't forget the unattainable, Dormé. Women like what is unattainable and forbidden. Of course...that does work both ways sometimes."

Rix nodded and Obi-Wan found himself the subject of the young man's interested stare. Gone was the sheer arrogance of the day before. "So, mystery and a hint of bad boy could work for me? Keep going, Ben. Should I be taking notes?"

He blinked, then laughed softly. "To be honest, Rix, I am no authority --"

"Of course you are! Come on, man, you snared this totally awesome babe here, so you've got to know things. Teach me. I need help. I mean, I was way overzealous last night."

Was that a snicker from Dormé? "Rix."

"I want to learn. I am a completely blank slate. Teach me. I'll be your student."

All humor left him and he stood, cutting off the man's pleas with a stern clipped 'no'. Then, seeing confusion on both Rix and Dormé's faces, he said, "You are young, Rix, with a young man's ways. Time will temper you. I have no special wisdom to impart. Now if you'll excuse me, I have matters to attend to."

Dormé followed him into the hall and out into the tiny courtyard. She said nothing for a long while. Finally, she touched his arm. "Have you grieved?"

There was such understanding in her eyes, but she couldn't know the whole of it. "More than you can know." He sighed, clasping her hand in his. "I did not mean to be short with him, but I must admit that in many ways he reminds me..."

"I know."

"I need a moment alone. Please."

She gave his arm a final squeeze. "Of course. I'll be inside."

When she had gone, Obi-Wan put his back to the wall and slid down to sit. Drawing up the hood of his cloak to cover his face, he gave in to the urge for tears. After a long while, where no one disturbed him, he dried his face, composed himself and returned to the dining room.

* * *

Rix was slouched in a chair, face all banged up and looking very uncomfortable with Dormé across the table from him. Val paused in the doorway. Had it been Dormé or Ben that had slugged Rix? "Hey. What happened?" 

"I don't want to talk about it," Rix said, not removing his stare from the table top. Dormé lifted a cloth and reached out to Rix, who shrank back with a gasp. "Don't. You've done enough already." Shoving back his chair, he got up and stalked past Val and into the hallway.

She'd done enough? Was Dormé the cause of the black eye and scrapes? Had _she_ been the one to deck him? Val blinked. He'd thought for sure Rix's attentions to Dormé would irritate Ben enough that he'd lose his temper. He hadn't considered calm, cool Dormé would explode instead.

Why didn't she have a scratch on her? Oh yeah, that whole hitting a girl thing. But did that apply when said girl was wiping the floor with your ass? Something to think about. "So, Dormé."

"Yes, Val?" Her sweet smile made him a mite nervous and he wondered just what she was up to. She set the cloth down and crossed her arms, relaxing back in the chair once more.

"You...uh...getting along with Rix, then?"

"As of last night...we understand each other _just_ fine."

He gulped. "Okay then. Where's Ben?"

"Right here," came that one's voice from behind him.

"Yeah. We're set for late afternoon then. Uncle wants to have time to pretty himself up a bit." He didn't miss Dormé's shudder at that. "I know, not really possible, but he wants to give it a try. I've got a plan for that meeting, but give me awhile to solidify it in my mind. He won't bring charges against you or nothing."

"Good to know," Ben said, going to the table and joining Dormé. "Is it just the four of us?"

"Not a chance. The four of us, LeeLee and a few of Uncle's staff. LeeLee wants to check him out and I can't see a reason not to let her go. She's a good negotiator if we need one."

Just then, Resa walked in. She was all dressed up and looking wonderfully gorgeous. Val followed her to the table, intending on holding her chair for her, like a gentleman would, and promptly found Ben doing it first. What the...? Then Ben sat beside her, talking and flirting and making her laugh. All the sort of things he wanted to do. Why was he doing that when Dormé was right there?

So, Val sat beside Dormé and put an arm along the back of her chair. If Ben is going to behave like that with Resa, he thought, we'll just see how he likes me doing that with Dormé!

* * *

What was Obi-Wan up to? Dormé couldn't even catch his eye. He'd concentrated all of his attention on Resa and Dormé couldn't figure out why, so when Obi-Wan and Val left to pick up the pictures, she invited Resa to have a drink while they waited. 

Resa sipped from her glass. "Ben and Val. Wow. I never knew they knew each other. They're both such gentleman too."

Dormé about choked on that. Val? A gentleman? Sweet talker maybe, but never once had she thought of Val in that lofty category of gentleman. Now, Obi-Wan she'd believe that about without a second thought. He truly was a gentleman. "Mmm-hmm."

"Do you know how truly rare that is? I mean, most men who tell me they want to have a drink and talk come on to me in the first twenty minutes. Those two though..." She flushed. "Can you keep a secret, Dormé?"

Oh one or two, she thought. "Until death," she answered in a whimsical tone, then winced at the expression and what it meant now for the secrets she'd been privy to.

"Good, because I have to tell someone and I really like you. I just get the feeling that I can tell you anything. Okay, you know Val?"

"Somewhat."

Resa dragged her chair closer. "Well, the last time he was back this way, we..._you_ know. He said the most romantic things." She sighed, a blissful expression on her lovely features.

I'll _bet_ he did, was Dormé's thoroughly cynical thought. She tossed back her drink and set the glass aside.

"But then, it was like months before he came back and I was wondering...do you think I gave in too quickly? Because I thought two and a half years was a pretty long time before agreeing to those matters. Was I hasty? Did he just get what he wanted and run away?"

"Maybe he thought you and Ben--"

Resa laughed and gave her a gentle punch on the arm. "Me and Ben? You are too, too funny. We're just friends. He never even tried to kiss me. I would have let him, because he's a nice looking man and all, but he didn't even try. He mentioned a woman a few times. Guess I assumed he had an on-again, off-again thing going when he asked to talk those times. You, I suppose. My assumption was _way_ off. I mean, it's so obvious you're together for keeps."

"Obvious? How?" Why was everyone assuming she and Obi-Wan were a couple? Resa certainly wasn't the first the past couple days.

Before Resa could answer, there was a loud crash and a pained shout from down the hall in the direction Val and Obi-Wan had taken.

* * *

They stopped in the middle of the wide hall. Val stared at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan returned the stare. Slowly, Val stripped off his coat and dumped it onto the floor. 

"All right, Ben. I hate that it's come to this, but..." He held up his fists. "I'll fight you for her, nice and honest. First man on the ground loses, winner gets the woman."

Obi-Wan put his hands on his hips. Was it fair to fight Val when he'd easily win? Really, it was no contest. Of course, he didn't absolutely have to use the Force to aid him. An old-fashioned tussle might be rather satisfactory right now. No, he told himself. It's not dignified. A Jedi does not give in to such impulses. "There is no need for a fight."

"Course there's a need. What, you a little scaredy-boy when it comes down to it? Huh?"

A Jedi does not give in, he reminded himself, more than a little annoyed at being called a 'scaredy-boy' by this man when Val had run away the previous night rather than wait and watch his plan with Rix unfold.

Val danced a little back and forth, making jabbing movements with his fists. "Yeah, I got your number, Ben. I'm gonna whup you. You're going _down_."

Obi-Wan crossed his arms a moment. He considered Dormé. Her dark eyes. That sexy, sultry little grin of hers. The shapely legs. That perky bosom. He thought of her with Val and he thought of her with him.

Forget dignity, there was no way he was going to let her slip away again, and with _this_ man!

"Okay, Val. We'll have this out."

"Like gentleman?"

"Like gentleman."

Gentleman, Obi-Wan decided a short while later, had never fought this dirty and underhanded. They kicked, hit, bit and scratched.

"Give up, Ben, and I won't hurt you," Val growled out.

Nice, but Obi-Wan had him in a good hard grip... Or, maybe not.

A cry in female voices made them pause.

* * *

"What are you two doing," Dormé and Resa yelled in unison. 

"We're fighting for you," was the reply made by Obi-Wan and Val.

Dormé exchanged a glance with Resa. Dormé shrugged. "Which one," she and Resa asked together.

Obi-Wan and Val both sucked in breaths as though they feared never to breath again. "You," they answered.

"Her or me," Resa inquired, crossing her arms.

"You," the two men reiterated, pointing. They shoved each other back, staggered and stood panting and staring at each other.

"Who were you pointing at," Obi-Wan asked, smoothing his tunics. Blood dripped down his chin. He wiped it away, then flipped his hair back off his forehead. His slightly battered countenance gave him a delightful roguish air.

Val clutched at his ribs. There was a bloody gash high on one cheekbone and one eye was already swelling. "Who were _you_ pointing at?"

"Dormé."

"Resa."

"You're not interested in Dormé?"

"Heck no. Only did that to tick you off. I want Resa. You aren't interested in her any?"

"She's nice, but she's no Dormé." Obi-Wan chuckled. "I guess this is settled."

Dormé made a face as Val spat blood onto the nice clean floor.

"Guessed rightly, I suppose."

"Bracing fight, Val. Are your ribs all right?"

"Yeah, they're fine. You got a good grip. Hard punch. I try and get in a little practice now and then, but not so much as I used to. Gets harder to bounce back after a certain age, you know?"

"Oh, tell me about it." Obi-Wan picked up Val's coat and held it out. "Every year it's harder."

"Yup. Stiff joints and I'd swear I'm needing more and more sleep every night. Can't rightly get moving in the morning without a hot drink and big breakfast."

Resa nudged Dormé. "So, I'm a little confused, here. Why were they beating each other up?"

_She's no Dormé. _Happiness threatened to bubble over inside her. Had he really thought Val was interested in her? And fought him over her? It was romantic in a weird way. "They had a misunderstanding. I believe it's fixed now."

Obi-Wan turned his head, looked at her. The raw satisfaction in his eyes stunned her. There was such passion in it. She couldn't think of a thing to say. There was no time to say anything, however. LeeLee came striding down the hallway towards them to see what the commotion was. They did not have a private moment alone for a very long time. Once Val explained his plan, which she saw Obi-Wan roll his eyes at, LeeLee entered into the idea with enthusiasm.

Dormé wondered if all people born and at least partially raised on Tatooine were as strange as the ones she kept meeting.

* * *

Palamon Perrin was surprised to find Val leading a little procession up to his door and even more surprised when Val announced another person was on the way. Well, as long as he got his pictures back he didn't care who was there. He'd even accept an apology from Dormé for stealing them. Perhaps they could enter into an arrangement. If she was so interested in the pictures as to steal them for herself, she had to be his kind of woman. 

He watched her, ignoring the bearded man beside her. She was as lovely as she'd been in the dining room, though that concealing cloak did nothing for her figure. He wondered what had happened to her dress. He started forward. "Val, my boy, you found her."

"No Uncle, this isn't Dormé."

Palamon stopped walking, looked her over again. "Of course it is. Sure looks like her, right down to those perky bosoms."

"It's not her." Val helped himself to a drink, pouring more liquid onto the table than in his glass and appearing unconcerned for it.

Palamon frowned. "Who is _she_ then?"

Sipping, Val went to the woman, put an arm around her. "This, Uncle, is her twin sister. Darmé."

Glancing back and forth between Val and the woman introduced as Darmé, Palamon couldn't quite believe it. "You're not serious? An exact twin?"

"Yup."

Darmé looked around the room, not meeting his eyes. She seemed nervous, but he decided it was because she was meeting him for the first time. What woman _wouldn't_ be nervous with him in the room? After all, he was such a wonderful catch! He chuckled. "A twin. Well, well, well." He knew a thing or two about what to do with twins. Raunchy ideas ran amok in his mind for several satisfying seconds. There was Dormé and there was Darmé and there was...him, right in between them. "Pleasure to meet you."

Val squeezed her against him, the liquid in his glass sloshing over the side and dribbling down. "She's married."

"To you," Palamon asked. If so, that could be taken care of easily enough. A little poison in that liquor Val was so fond of, or maybe a carefully placed irate man in Val's favorite bar. Darmé could be a widow by the end of the week.

"No."

He grinned. "Good." Even better. No annoying family nearby to whine about his death on holidays.

Val pointed to the bearded man. "She's married to him. Ben."

Palamon's grin faded. Married to that man? "Oh. Well, do you have my pictures, then?"

"In due time," Ben said.

"Fine," Palamon snapped, peevishly looking over the husband. He looked like a farmer. Same bland clothes in bland colors and such a hardened look about him. This man had seen hardship of some kind, he could see it in his eyes. He didn't look the sort who was easy to kill. He might take exception to another man looking at his wife. "Where is Dormé?"

Val released Darmé, whose gentle polite smile appeared somewhat strained, and glanced out into the courtyard. "She left on a transport. She was gone real quick, Uncle."

"Then how did _you_ get the pictures?"

Darmé spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. She sounded regal, cultured. Too bad she was married already. Appearances were everything and it was important to present an image. She would have been perfect, just like her sister. "My sister took them on impulse. She is like that, but usually regrets her actions later. She left them with us to return and when Val came around asking..."

Grudgingly, he accepted the explanation and lamented the loss of her. Lines of a poem he'd written and published while a youth went through his mind.

_Sweet Amaris, love of all time, my heart patters and lips long for yours... _

She was his Amaris, his...Wait a minute. Forget Dormé. Who was that absolutely ravishing creature that just walked in?

* * *

Dormé was surprised Val's plan was working. Palamon actually thought she was her own fictional twin sister. She opened her mouth to elaborate on the story, when Palamon looked over her shoulder and smoothed his hair with a hand. 

"Who is this picture of glowing perfection I see in my doorway?"

With a glance, she saw LeeLee standing there. Her clothes were tailored in severe lines and her hair in an upswept 'do that rivaled any Padmé had worn as queen. Her plan had been to come in as this hard, cold woman and negotiate if there was trouble. She'd insisted the slave traders were all alike and that Perrin would expect it. "Madame LeeLee," she informed him.

Palamon brushed by her. "Out of the way. There's a _real_ woman to look at." Going to LeeLee, he took her hand and said something in a language Dormé was unfamiliar with. Whatever he said made LeeLee straighten up tall and smile.

Obi-Wan nudged her and bent his head close. "So fickle," he whispered. "Whatever will you do now?"

"Good riddance," was her reply.

LeeLee looked Palamon over. "Well, aren't _you_ a handsome one!" She cooed this while walking the fingers of one hand up and down on Palamon's tunic.

Val choked on his drink, the resulting fit of coughing drowning out the conversation. Dormé strained to hear while Obi-Wan slapped Val on the back a few times. "Handsome? Is she blind?" Once he'd caught his breath, Val gulped down the drink and set the glass aside.

"No, I think she just changed tactics." Dormé crossed her arms, admiring LeeLee's quick thinking. One look and she'd become all sweetness and light.

The three of them watched the exchange between the agent and the slave trader with the rapt attention most reserved for theater performances.

"We could combine our resources," Palamon was saying, patting LeeLee's hand over and over. "Think of it. We could use my slaves as models and you wouldn't have to waste wages on them. More profit and that's always a good thing, hmm?"

"I rather like my business as it is, Palamon. It's so rewarding working with young persons, launching them on their careers. And I don't pay them really. They are paid by whomever hires them and I earn a percentage of that pay."

"Oh. Well, think of it anyway, my passion petal. Let's have dinner tonight and discuss a..._merge_." He wiggled his brows at her.

LeeLee gave the most nauseatingly fake coy laugh Dormé had ever heard. "I would love to Palamon, but I'm afraid I already have plans. Dreadfully sorry. Perhaps later this week? We could meet off-planet. There's a lovely place I know--"

"Tell me when and I shall be there. With bells on. Rowr!"

Dormé shuddered. Oh ick. He probably meant it literally, too. She was greatly relieved when the transaction was completed, the copies were in Palamon's hands and they were all away from the house. One last meeting with LeeLee and she was ready to find someplace to live.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title**: Third Time's A Charm

**Author**: kasey8473

**Summary**: Sequel to 'Tea For Two'. Four years after the rise of the Empire, Obi-Wan and Dormé meet again.

**Chapter**: Eight

**Rating**: M for humor

**Disclaimer**: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. No disrespect is intended.

**Notes**: Try number two for this chapter. Power went out before I'd remembered to save it and I lost the first try.

* * *

The meeting with LeeLee didn't take long at all, it was the waiting that was the longest, but soon Dormé was free to leave the office. Going to her room, she commenced with packing, which primarily consisted of stowing the pictures safely away and returning clothing items. 

Carefully, Dormé packed up the pictures, wrapping the bulk of them and setting two on top. She left the bag on the bed while she went to return items to Resa's friend. Returning, she opened it and found exactly what she'd thought she would. Dormé closed the bag with a sense of satisfaction.

Val was so predictable sometimes. She wondered if he'd ever realize he'd been had. Shouldering her luggage, she carried it downstairs.

* * *

It took three minutes to zip down the hall, grab the pictures on top and zip back out. Val knew that because he timed himself. Any longer and Dormé would return. He had no desire to be caught. Slipping into Resa's room, Val shoved the two pictures under some of her shirts in that case she had ready to go. Now to get it to the ship without Dormé or Ben realizing any of the pictures were gone.

* * *

Val was awfully nervous, Obi-Wan thought, watching the man stride back and forth along the ramp. He had not stopped moving since they'd arrived at the ship and every so often, he'd pause and stare at the case at Obi-Wan's feet. With a glance to his left, he saw Resa still telling Dormé goodbye. 

Resa was leaving with Val and breaking contract with LeeLee. She insisted that what she and Val had was true love. After all, he'd fought a man over her and wasn't that the most romantic expression of his love? Obi-Wan wasn't certain that occurrence was an accurate expression of affections save in his case, nor was he sure how blood and gashes could be considered romantic. Resa could not be talked out of leaving with Val. He and Dormé had both tried.

"Will you get on the blasted ship woman? For one, I owe a guy some funds and two, I wouldn't put it past dear LeeLee to send someone after you. Hurry it up over there." Val ran a hand through his hair and nudged Resa's case up the ramp a bit with his foot.

"I'm saying goodbye," Resa replied, enfolding Dormé in yet another hug.

"Get that hiney moving! If we're not outta here in five, I might not have a ship to carry you off in."

"Headed any place special," Obi-Wan asked politely. He didn't really care; he was just glad to see Val go. He could only take so much of the man and he'd reached his limit the previous hour.

Val picked up Resa's luggage, cast a suspicious glance Dormé's way and strode up the ramp, setting it inside the ship. Upon return, he began once more to pace. "Nowhere special. I need to travel, be out there, you know? Out there in space. Away from here."

Obi-Wan fully understood the need to be away from Tatooine. He'd leave it himself for good if he was able. It was a hot, miserable planet.

Resa came to him now, enfolding him in a hug as enthusiastic and friendly as the ones she'd been giving Dormé for the past twenty minutes. "Take care, Ben. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you as well." He patted her back gently and set her from him. "Now don't keep Val waiting much longer."

With a nod, she hurried up the ramp.

Finally, Val stopped pacing. A nervous energy surrounded him. "I'd say see you, but I'm not ever coming back to this planet. Take care of yourselves." He blew a kiss at Dormé. "He's a good guy, babe. Got yourself a keeper. Bye."

In minutes, the ship had lifted off and they were alone. There was no Val, Resa, LeeLee, Rix or other person there to interrupt their time together. He planned on taking full advantage. They could have dinner, then slip off to her room...

Why _had_ Val been so nervous? The thought wouldn't leave his mind. Not only that, but why had he kept staring at Dormé's luggage? Tendrils of alarm wrapped about him and would not let go. The luggage was where the pictures were. Surely Val hadn't had the time... Crouching, Obi-Wan opened her case.

* * *

Yes, Val was predictable, right down to the pacing when nervous. There was no man he owed funds to, only Dormé he'd stolen pictures from. She stepped closer to Obi-Wan, watched as he opened the case. 

"Dormé, two pictures are missing." He stared up at her with wide alarmed eyes.

Crouching, Dormé removed the two pictures she'd had hidden beneath her cloak for the past hour and handed them to him. "Sure hope Val enjoys those pictures of Resa I paid extra to LeeLee for them."

"When?" He took them, glanced at them and tucked them away from sight.

"When I squared the account with LeeLee earlier. She had two more copies brought down at my request. That's why I was later coming down."

Understanding and humor grew in his eyes. "You knew he'd try to steal a couple?"

Dormé nodded. "Well, I guessed. He did say several times that he's never coming back here and I believe him. He won't come back, so how could he resist, especially since he thinks they're pictures of me? He would assume I'd be unable to try and take them back. As for the number, he didn't have time to really make off with the entire load, nor could he without leaving me suspicious. Two was a nice number and I'd wrapped the rest so he would have had to undo it all to get at more."

He stood and she did as well. "You conned him."

"Yes."

They shared a laugh. It felt good to do so. When their amusement faded somewhat, Obi-Wan picked up her luggage and offered her his arm. "Well then, let us have a nice, quiet evening alone. Dinner first and then we can decide what we wish to do."

Arm in arm, they strolled towards his favorite restaurant.

* * *

While Val was busy piloting, Resa occupied herself with putting away her belongings. She was so happy to be with him at last! It was good to know he'd not been after that one thing. He loved her. Opening her bag, she found something she knew _she_ hadn't packed. Hugging herself in delight, Resa allowed herself a pleased giggle. 

That Val was such a sweetheart! Stealing pictures of her. She knew it was her because she had a mole on her hip and the woman in the original didn't.

Joining Val in the tiny lounge, Resa made sure to give him a big long kiss.

* * *

She was finally sound asleep, freeing Val to take out the pictures and really study them. He chuckled to himself. He kind of wished he'd been there to see Dormé's reaction, but then he thought about Ben and decided it was better this way. It was best that he was nowhere near when she realized he'd stolen two of those pictures of her. 

He let his gaze slip over the curves. Yup, for the best. Man, she was a good looking gal! The longer he studied the pictures however, something nagged at him. With a frown, he put them away and rejoined Resa, snuggling himself against her and running a gentle hand along her hip. He kissed her neck, fingers touching the little mole on her hip, returning to it again and again.

Suddenly Val sat. The mole. Hurrying from the bed, he took the pictures back out and held them up. The mole, right there. Lowering them, he looked at Resa, sound asleep. On her hip was the mole. The _same mole _as in the pictures. Slowly, he began to laugh.

He'd been had. Somehow, the pictures had been switched. Shaking his head, he set the pictures down and returned to bed. That Dormé. What a gal!

He hoped Ben knew what he was getting into with her.

* * *

Their quiet evening was not to materialize, much to Obi-Wan's disappointment. No sooner had their food arrived than LeeLee's assistant found them, informing Dormé that LeeLee wished to see her first thing in the morning. Grudgingly, he decided that he'd better take his supplies home before they were stolen a second time. Once that task was completed, he'd have time to return and they could go about their plans. 

"I will return in two days," he told her as he tied down the last of it. He had just enough time before twilight to reach home. "Don't leave town, Dormé. In fact, don't go anywhere except to LeeLee's. I want to see you and I'll not have a repeat of the other day. If I am longer that two days, do not hesitate to come to my home."

"Don't worry," she assured him. "I've no plans to go anywhere."

Still, he felt the slightest twinge of misgiving in his mind as he headed for home. He was very afraid he'd never see her again.

* * *

LeeLee's office was the same one Resa had led them into. Dormé sat in the comfortable chair and waited for the woman to tell her the reason for the meeting. 

LeeLee crossed her arms and rested them on the desk edge. "You're a bodyguard. Why didn't you tell me?" Her tone was mildly accusatory.

"I didn't realize it was important."

"Of course it's important," she replied. "Do you know how hard it is to keep the slave traders away from my models? I have to keep a full staff of security and bodyguards for whenever they travel outside my buildings. Even a simple shopping trip could see a prized model snatched away." She sighed. "Rix told me. I find it difficult to believe, though. You could be one of my girls, Dormé"

"I'm not just any bodyguard. I was trained in a very specialized field within that category." She recalled making idle conversation with Rix while she'd patched him up from the fight. She'd mentioned her career a couple times. "I'm a handmaiden, fully schooled and certified."

"Do you have references I can check?"

"Of course I have references, but you can't simply check them." This, she realized with a jolt, was a job interview.

"Why not?"

"Because. Among my clientele I've had a much loved former Senator who would not be easy to reach for comment." She let LeeLee think on that. Padmé _had_ been loved and influential in some sectors, and she was both a former Senator and hard to reach, seeing as she was now dead. Dormé remained sitting tall and straight in her seat. The wording and bearing were important, giving an impression that wasn't entirely correct.

Interest sparked bright in LeeLee's eyes. "This Senator, did _he_...or she...go on to become much more?"

"Yes." Technically it was true. She certainly considered being a mother, however brief that state had been, to be much more than a Senator. Not to mention Padmé had also been a wife. Yes, both counted in her opinion.

"Well, why did you leave the service of that Senator?" The woman was looking at her like she was crazy.

"My husband transferred."

"You're married?" Her fingers tapped on the desk and she smiled. "Ahh yes, the man with you. Ben. So how did you end up here?"

"Let's just say the empire eliminated my husband's position and he was no longer needed." She'd managed to tell the truth without giving anything away. Tepin's position _had_ been eliminated. LeeLee made her own assumptions.

LeeLee stared at her, then nodded. "Okay, here's what I'm prepared to offer..."

By late afternoon, Dormé was on her way to Obi-Wan's home, following the directions he'd given her. As she parked the speeder, he came to the bottom of the steps, obviously surprised to see her. Dormé climbed out and ran to him, hugging him tightly.

"I got the job!"

"That's wonderful," he said, squeezing her against him. "What job would that be?"

She released him. "Oh, with LeeLee."

"I'm happy for you."

She laughed, her hands on his arms. His own hands settled at her waist. "It was the most bizarre interview, but I'm to work steady hours, two days off a week and the salary is as much as I earned with Padmé. Not to mention the perks."

With a little tug, he directed to up the stairs and they climbed, still embracing. "What sort of perks," he asked.

"I have a company apartment and personal speeder, which I'm driving today, and enough high-tech gadgets to choke a bantha. The health and dental plan is top-notch and I can hire an assistant if I wish." She paused, uncertain how to say the next part. Perhaps blurting it out would be best. "She thinks you're my husband, Obi-Wan. She said she knows how hard it is to have two homes, so you're welcome to stay in the apartment whenever you like."

He was silent until they'd reached the top of the steps. "Would _you_ like that? Me staying with you on occasion?"

Dormé turned to look up at him. "Yes. I'd like it very much."

He raised a hand, slid it through her hair. She'd left it loose, knowing he probably liked it that way. "You'll stay on Tatooine, then? Live here?"

"Where else have I to go? This is my new home planet."

He nodded. The sensation of his hand through her hair was more than pleasant. Now he touched her face, thumb sweeping along her lower lip in a tickling caress. "What might have been may be after all. I seem to remember we never had a chance to _really_ kiss."

Her heart beat fast in her chest. Was it time? Would her desire of years ago at long last be fulfilled? "We almost did."

"For what? Four, perhaps five seconds before that mugger interrupted? Almost does not count."

She gave a soft giggle. "You know, I had waited all afternoon for that kiss, too. I was _not_ pleased to be interrupted."

"I could not tell."

They had a moment of quiet as the suns began to set on the horizon. Splashes of purples, pinks and reds mixed together in a beautiful play of color. Dormé barely noticed the beauty. She was too intent upon Obi-Wan.

"You'll stay?"

This time, she knew he referred to the personal, not professional. Things had changed. Fate had brought them back together and this time, Dormé wasn't afraid to follow her heart. This, with him, was where she belonged. "As long as you'll have me."

"My Dormé." His other hand raised as well. Her face was cradled in his hands. "There's no child or mugger to interrupt us. Shall we try for that kiss? The third time is a charm, or so I was once told."

He bent his head and kissed her and it was everything she had thought it could be that day long ago.

**The End**.


End file.
